


Among the Living, We Call it Flirting

by LilyOrchard, MikailaT



Series: Anevay Darkflare - Horde Champion [5]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Disguise, F/F, Flirting, Friendship, Humiliation, Humor, Light Angst, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:55:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyOrchard/pseuds/LilyOrchard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikailaT/pseuds/MikailaT
Summary: Anevay just can't help flirting with a beautiful woman. She has very poor judgment. Or very good judgment, depending on who you are and who I am.
Relationships: Nathanos Blightcaller & Sylvanas Windrunner, Sylvanas Windrunner & Original Character(s)
Series: Anevay Darkflare - Horde Champion [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939501
Comments: 31
Kudos: 68





	1. Windrunner's Latest Plaything

**Year 29 - Three Months After the Gilneas Campaign**

Anevay felt good for the first time in a long time. After swearing allegiance to Sylvanas and equipping herself with her new armor, she felt like she had a secure place in Lordaeron. She felt like she was home. 

Once it was made clear that she was going to be staying on a permanent basis, Sylvanas had given her a proper rank of Dreadguard. The elite soldiers who were second only to Blightcaller and Sylvanas herself. They were on par with the Dark Rangers in terms of skill and authority. However, her quarters were in the same complex as the Dark Rangers, with Loralen’s old quarters retrofitted with the things a living person would need such as running water and food storage.

In terms of size, her new quarters were just slightly smaller than her apartment back in Quel’Thalas. Except this felt a lot more comfortable.

That didn’t mean she was any less busy, however. No rest for the weary, after all, and she was soon back out into the field, riding Skash’ka past the Bulwark and into the Western Plaguelands. Nathanos had ordered her to report to Koltira Deathweaver and a Deathstalker named Lindsay Ravensun to aid with the battle of Andorhal. With Gilneas taken and Hillsbrad fortified, it was one of the few places left in Lordaeron the Forsaken had yet to conquer.

The issue with that front was, in fact, two fold. If the Alliance wasn't causing trouble for their forces the Scourge remnant was. While the campaign in Northrend managed to keep the Lich King's power in check, his forces still fought for control of land already within their domain. Scourge forces were dug into Stratholme like a tick and Andorhal was a three way skirmish between them the Alliance and the Forsaken.

It was a complicated front so Anevay approached the situation ready to give Deathweaver the benefit of the doubt. Sylvanas didn't extend the same courtesy to the Death Knight, but that's what Anevay was here for. To pick up the slack. 

She dismounted from Skash'ka and began searching the base for either Deathweaver or Ravensun.

She had worked with Deathweaver in Northrend, so she would have known him if she spotted him, and sadly there was no sign of the elven Death Knight anywhere in the base. She concluded he was likely out in the field, and so focused her attention on Ravensun.

“Excuse me?” she said to a group of Forsaken. “I’m looking for Lindsay Ravensun?”

One woman turned around and Anevay did a double-take. She was considerably different from most Forsaken women she had seen. She looked fresh out of the grave, and her eyes burned a dark red like the Rangers. Her features also carried a notably elven sharpness to them, though her ears indicated she was human. A Dark Ranger she hadn’t been introduced to, maybe? 

All in all, Anevay found her to be quite striking.

“You’re looking for me,” she said, stepping forward. “You must be Anevay Darkflare. Windrunner’s latest plaything?”

“Uh… plaything?” Anevay raised an eyebrow.

"Inside joke within the guard," Ravensun said with a shrug. "The Dark Lady speaks very highly of you and your skills, you see. People get to talking."

“Oh, she does?” Anevay said, fidgeting with her fingers as her cheeks flushed a pale pink. “I hadn’t… wait, talking?”

"Well considering how easy you are to fluster, I gather it isn't true," Ravensun said with a wry grin. "In any case, less gossip, more action. You have been sent here to help us retake the front, have you not?"

“Yes, I have!” Anevay said, nodding and trying to clear the blush from her face. The implications from Ravensun’s gossip as well as the fact that the woman was quite beautiful made it hard to clear her thoughts. “Retake the front, and discover what’s been taking Deathweaver so long.”

"Well, the ‘what’ doesn't seem to be much of a mystery," Ravensun said, crossing her arms. "Since I arrived here, he's been having our forces dance around the Alliance incursion. We've only been ordered to engage when on the defensive." A disapproving sneer grew in the Dreadguards remarkably preserved lips. "And because the Alliance is in the thick of Andorhal, our progress has been slow at best."

“Hmm… do we know who is commanding the Alliance forces, Lady Ravensun?” Anevay asked.

“A Death Knight by the name of Thassarian.”

“That’ll be it!” Anevay snapped her fingers in realization. “Thassarian and Koltira are very close friends. Not unlike the Dark Lady and Blightcaller. If Thassarian’s here, then Koltira is under a massive conflict of interest.”

Ravensun blinked with surprise. Surprise that slowly morphed into an expression more ominous. "Is that so?" She inquired, her crimson eyes shifting to the center most hall within the base. "Well we certainly can't have that. A conflict of interest as vast as you describe may very well lose us the plaguelands."

“Indeed,” Anevay nodded. “Give me a half a dozen troops and I can start making some headway at the very least. Maybe eliminate the Scourge while those two continue avoiding each other.”

"Very well, the warriors will be yours," Ravensun nodded. "You best find the Death Knight before you depart, however. If he discovers that I sent you out into the fray myself, hell rant my freshly sewn ears off about 'insubordination'." The dreadguard rolled her eyes at that last remark.

“My orders come directly from Blightcaller to report to either him or you, so his insubordination complaints can go fuck themselves,” Anevay huffed. “Given the choice I’d rather take orders from you.”

Ravensun arched a curious brow at Anevay's words. "Because I'm more decisive and less emotionally compromised?" She guessed.

“Well there’s that,” Anevay said, a smirk growing on her lips. “But also you are quite lovely, Lady Ravensun.”

That threw the dreadguard slightly. It took a moment for the look of bewilderment to change for one of exasperation. "Oh stop," she groaned, suddenly averting her eyes. "Such teasing is the last thing I need now."

“Among the living, we call it flirting,” Anevay’s smirk widened as she turned away. “I’ll go round up some volunteers and get started then.”

"Erhm… you do that," Ravensun nodded. She turned to walk back to the great hall, eyes still wide with bewilderment. Though her cheeks could not flush red as they had in life, the crimson glow behind her eyes did flare slightly. If one looked closely, they could see the unholy power shine through her cheeks.

* * *

Anevay walked up and down the line of six Forsaken soldiers who had answered her request for volunteers and looked them over, checking for damage that could prove troublesome or anything else that might render one of them immobile.

“Hmm… alright, everything seems in order,” she nodded. “Tell me your names?”

"Jeffrey Deathcloud, Lady Darkflare."

"Terrance Bonemaw."

"Hillary Stonerot."

"Cassandra Ghostwail."

Michelle Bittermist."

"Jacob Dragonmarrow."

"Reporting for duty!" The six called out in unison, their weapons clattering against their shields.

“Okay,” Anevay dug at her ear from the noise. “When you’re with me there’s no need for the pageantry. Let’s keep things more casual. Here’s what we’re going to be doing. Deathweaver is currently dancing around the Alliance, as is the Alliance’s death knight. We’re going to take this time to punch a hole in the Scourge and send that blasted Necromancer back to Scholomance where he belongs.”

"Oh, Blightin' finally!" Deathcloud said with a raspy sigh of relief. "It's been eons since we got to properly fight some shit."

“Glad to see you’re eager to get your blade wet,” Anevay grinned. “So here’s how I work. We hit them hard, we devastate their numbers, and nobody here dies. Understood?”

Bonerot rose a skeletal hand. "Does it count of anyone here is already dead?"

Ghostwail smacked the back of Bonerots head, causing him to give out a guttural laugh. "Don't bother the lady with stupid questions, ya daft cunt!"

Two of the soldiers had to make an effort to keep Ghostwail from assaulting the cackling man any further.

“Okay, let me amend that statement,” Anevay laughed. “Everyone comes back in one piece and Val’kyr won’t need to be called. Are we all clear?”

"Yes ma'am," the soldiers nodded, their disposition far more casual while still being respectful. 

"We won't let you down, Miss Darkflare," Dragonmarrow said, his head high with conviction.

“I know you won’t,” Anevay smiled. “And I won’t lead you into peril. Let’s get moving.”

The seven of them picked up their gear and marched off toward the Scourge front where the Undead were grappling with Alliance and Forsaken soldiers alike. On Anevay’s command, they charged through the Forsaken ranks and into the Scourge, storming over the ghouls and skeletons to clash their weapons with the tougher Undead. Under Anevay’s direction, they did an impeccable job at deflecting enemy attacks while cutting through the Scourge like a skinning knife through hide. Two years in Northrend had made Anevay extremely good at killing Undead and knowing where to strike to keep them down, and she passed that knowledge onto anyone she fought the Scourge with. 

Severing heads, destroying legs, bisecting, little effort was spent on trying to stab something through the chest or other typical kill-zones on living enemies. If you disabled an Undead, they were effectively useless to the necromancer that commanded them. Even to the Forsaken, losing a leg could be more dangerous than any other injury.

The Alliance soldiers were more typical in terms of tactics, aiming for the weak points in their armor, erecting a wall of shields in the wake of arrows or bullets. Stonerot even managed to throw a dagger into the barrel of a gun just before it fired, destroying the rifle and the human wielding it. Alliance soldiers were sturdier than the shambling skeletons, but under Anevay's command, the Forsaken fought smarter rather than harder. 

“Cassandra, Terrance, take down that Abomination!” Anevay directed as she swung her warblade through a ghoul’s neck before running it through the chest of an Alliance footman. 

“That’s one of ours!” Cassandra yelled back.

Anevay turned to see the Forsaken coloring of the Abomination’s weaponry as it fought with Ghouls and Alliance soldiers. “Oh, sorry dear!” she called out.

The hulking creature let out an unoffended grunt before returning their attention to the enemies around them.

"Chief!" Jacob called out, pointing down the road. "There's a Lich near the town square amassing rattlebones. Think they're readying a counter offense. Orders!"

Anevay turned to see the Lich channeling necromantic energy into fallen bodies. Picking up a shield, she hurled it like a discus toward the Lich. It slammed into its face, knocking it off balance and breaking its jaw. The energy stopped, its spell interrupted.

“My orders are charge!” Anevay said firmly as she broke into a sprint toward the Lich. The Forsaken troopers followed suit, blitzing forward as fast as their legs could take them

A frostbolt of unholy power lunged from the Lich's skeletal palm only to shatter harmlessly against the backswing of Anevay's gauntlet. Suddenly, the blood elf kept high, landing on the undead spellcaster. The warriors beside her followed her example and lunged, their collective mass bringing it to the ground. 

Blades and maces rained down on the Lich, shattering bones and scarring it's spectral form. The creature let out a howl of agony as its existence was undone brutally and without dignity.

Anevay stepped off the remains of the creature and wiped her brow, breathing heavily from the exertion. “See?” she said, looking at the others. “No sweat. Good work!”

Michelle let out a long groan of satisfaction. "By the grave! That was practically blissful!"

"Careful, luv," Cassandra snickered. "Sounds like you're turning into an orc."

“They say that about me all the time,” Anevay laughed as she dug the Lich’s phylactery out of a pile of rubble and drove her warblade through it. There was a loud bang as it exploded, and a shriek as the spirit of the Lich vaporized into the air. “Along with nastier names.”

"Well I'd argue a good name for you would be godsend," Jeffery said with a huff of laughter. "Three cheers for Lady Darkflare!"

“Oh no, please. Don’t cheer,” Anevay waved her hands and shook her head, looking visibly uncomfortable as she beckoned everyone off the front. “I don’t like that kind of reverence.”

"Oh… well alright then," Michelle said, stroking her scabbed chin in contemplation. "Erhm… thumbs up for Lady Darkflare?"

The company responded by silently pointing their thumbs upward. Remarkably, everyone had theirs still intact.

“Thank you.”

* * *

“Lady Ravensun? The Scourge has been weakened and Darkmaster Gandling is on the retreat,” Anevay said, bowing slightly as she arrived back in the base camp. This time, Koltira was with her.

"Really?" Ravensun turned from the Death Knight, a grin slowly spreading across her face. "I must say, Lady Darkflare, I was expecting results, but not so quickly."

"Well that's because you sent her into the fray without consulting me!" Koltira hissed before turning his attention to Anevay. "Lady Darkflare," he greeted with a nod. "It's been awhile."

“Koltira,” Anevay nodded before returning her attention to Ravensun. “It helps that there’s someone to impress, Lady Ravensun,” she purred.

The crimson backlight to her eyes flared up again. "...Oh, you shameless flatterer," she huffed, trying to conceal a smile behind her hand. 

“I try,” Anevay winked as she turned her attention back to Koltira. “So, with the Scourge in full retreat, we can focus our attention on routing the Alliance?”

The Death Knight bristled slightly, his icy gaze cast down to the blighted ground beneath them. "I will send scouts to find out the Alliance's next move. With any luck, this show of force we've demonstrated will demoralize them."

“I could take a larger force and steamroll over them, Deathweaver,” Anevay said confidently. “Not even their Death Knight could stop me.”

"I wouldn't be so confident, Darkflare," Koltira huffed. "Thassarian is not a pushover. He is among the mist capable Death Knights the Ebon Blade has to offer. To underestimate him-"

"I'm sorry, but are you not talking to the woman who slew the Lich King, Deathweaver?" Ravensun interjected dryly. "I can't imagine this Thassarian will be much harder than that."

“Arrogance wouldn’t be-”

“Koltira, I could go toe to toe with the Dark Lady if I wanted to,” Anevay said firmly. “Your little friend doesn’t frighten me.”

Ravensun glanced at her with narrowed eyes. “A bold claim to make, Darkflare.”

“I’d be more than willing to spar with her in the Undercity to back it up if you want me to prove it,” Anevay chuckled. “For now, though, let’s get that Death Knight back in the ground.”

Koltira scowled at Anevay. "We will wait for the scouts report before we make our move! I will not waste man power just to sate your bloodlust, brute!"

“Watch your tone with me, Death Knight,” Anevay narrowed her eyes at Koltira. “I’m a patient woman, but I won’t tolerate such disrespect from anyone. Least of all you.”

Deathweaver flinched, ears folding against his skull in the wake of Anevay's piercing, smoldering gaze.

Ravensun, on the other hand, appeared almost mesmerized by the sight of the blood elf before her. 

"...I will send out the scouts then," he said in a far less assured tone, inclining his head politely before excusing himself from the room.

“Blasted turncoat,” Anevay sighed as she turned back to Ravensun. “I don’t know why the Dark Lady even recruited him. She hates Death Knights.” There was a brief pause before she looked sheepish. “Well, she hates the living as well, so I guess I shouldn’t be talking.”

Lindsay's smile did not waver as she addressed Anevay. "Well, from what most of us can gather, Lady Darkflare, you're the exception that makes the rule."

“That’s kind of you to say,” Anevay smiled warmly, reaching forward and gently squeezing Lindsay’s arm. “It took a while to earn the Dark Lady’s trust, and I don’t want to lose it.”

Lindsay inhaled sharply as she felt Anevay's hand on her arm. Her eyes blew impossibly wide as the unholy power behind them flared in reaction. "I… oh well, I'm… I'm sure you won't."

Anevay’s brow furrowed when she saw Lindsay’s expression change so drastically, before she realized that she was touching her. “Oh, right,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “Sorry… Dark Ranger Kalira told me I was hot to the touch. It slips my mind often. I apologize,” she said sheepishly.

"N-No need to apologize," Lindsay stammered out, straightening out her armor. "It was… nice. I just wasn't expecting it is all."

“That’s what I’m apologizing for,” Anevay explained. “Kalira and Cyndia both said it was nice as well. But… it also has a very powerful effect on the Forsaken. I need to be careful, otherwise I could take advantage of someone without even realizing it.”

Lindsay's brow raised at that. "Really? I didn't think such a thing would be a concern to you," she admitted. "Then again, most living souls wouldn't have such concerns. I guess you truly are unlike the others."

“I don’t want to enthrall anyone here, Lady Ravensun. I’m trying to form a real connection with people,” Anevay explained. “And… well I mean, the Dark Rangers are very lovely. I’ve been batting around the idea of approaching one of them. We seem to get along at the very least.”

"Wait, you're honestly-?" Lindsay's expression grew more incredulous. "You actually see us… that way? I… I thought that was just flattery."

“I was engaged to Dark Ranger Alina until she ended our relationship a few years ago,” Anevay explained. “When I discovered she was among the Forsaken I came looking for her, wanting to reunite with her. But she rejected that idea.”

There was a brief quiet before Anevay laughed and shook her head. “Actually, while I’m certain she’s always been the exception to the rule, I’ve had a crush on the Dark Lady since I was nine.”

Another beat of silence passed as Lindsay appeared rather befuddled. "That would have been… before all the shit with the Scourge, right?" She asked. "And you… you still feel that way? After everything that's happened?"

Anevay shrugged. “Guess so. I mean I still have to keep from babbling like an idiot whenever I speak to her. She’s about the same woman she was in life, just with a shorter temper and a little more paranoid. The Regent Lord makes a big deal about Sylvanas being nothing like she was in life, but personally I think she’s more like her old self than either of them care to admit.”

Lindsay remained quiet for a time, a hand raising to rub at the back of her neck. "Well… I suppose you would know. You had the honor of knowing the Dark Lady before the Fall."

“Well, working under her command feels no different now to how it did twenty years ago,” Anevay shrugged. “Efficient, battles are won quickly and decisively, I have to keep from devolving into a babbling gay disaster whenever she’s around. It’s just like old times,” she chuckled.

"Were there elves as persnickety and ineffectual as Deathweaver back in the old times?" Lindsay asked, a wry grin returning to her face. "Because if so it's a miracle you and her got anything done."

“Lor’themar, actually,” Anevay chuckled. “Sylvanas’ second in command was a nightmare to deal with. In the last twenty years, though, Sylvanas took on a human into the Farstriders and he was a delight to work for. We became so much better with him in the fold.”

"Wait, are you talking about Blightcaller?" Lindsay asked. "Oh wow. So he and the Dark Lady do go back. We all had our suspicions of course, but you know how tight lipped those lot are." She tilted her head curiously as a furrow formed between her brow. "Actually, are you sure you're cleared to reveal such information to me?"

“It’s nothing sensitive. Sylvanas and Nathanos were rumored to be sleeping together in life as well, but they never were. They were very close friends, and I think they still are,” Anevay nodded. “This is all rather mundane stuff. I actually have very little sensitive information. I wasn’t trusted enough to be privy to it. I was a greenling for most of my career.”

"Well you've certainly come a long way since then," Lindsay remarked with an admiring smile. "I've yet to see someone lead a squadron of six and clean house that efficiently."

“Thank you,” Anevay smiled brightly. “Ever since the Fall I’ve always strived for no casualties. I got a rude awakening of just how painful and traumatizing being killed or seriously injured in battle can be, and I want to make sure nobody under my command suffers that if I can help it.”

"Well most of us here already-" Lindsay paused, suddenly realizing how her words might not have been the most carefully decided before she chose to speak. "...I mean, that is very thoughtful, Lady Darkflare. As I said, no other living souls would expend us such a courtesy.”

“Few living souls have seen the things that I’ve seen,” Anevay sighed as she turned away for the medical tent. She herself had gained a few nasty lacerations during the skirmish and she was in need of medical care. “Let me know if those scouts return, would you? I’d rather not have to speak to the Death Knight if I can help it.”

  
“You have a problem with Death Knights, Darkflare?” Lindsay raised an eyebrow.

Anevay stopped and turned around. “Ten years ago, a Death Knight tortured someone I care very much about. I haven’t liked them since.”

"...Ah. When you said you were stuck on the Dark Lady, you really weren't kidding." Lindsay let out a slight huff of laughter. Laughter that swiftly died when she got a good look at the injuries her armor momentarily concealed. 

“I’d feel the same way whether I was stuck on her or not,” Anevay corrected with a bitter chuckle. “I owe a lot to her. And for a time I liked to consider her my friend.” She turned and headed back for the tent, her shoulders slumped as weariness started to set in.

Lindsay bit at her lip as she watched Anevay proceed to the tent. She appeared conflicted, as if she were unsure whether or not to follow her any further for one reason or another. In the end curiosity, or perhaps concern, won out and she walked after the blood elf. "Well… just make sure you don't irreparably destroy yourself in the meantime, Lady Darkflare. I imagine the Banshee Queen wants to keep you around for a time."

“Yeah… I’ll try,” Anevay said, a distinct air of melancholy surrounding her as she entered the medical tent and sat down on the bench while the apothecary tended to an injured Forsaken woman.

Lindsay's brow furrowed. "That doesn't really sound like you'll tr-" She cut herself off, seemingly wincing. "You know what? I'm not really on to talk about making an effort to not die. Pardon me."

Anevay smiled a little and looked up at her. “I’ll be fine, Lady Ravensun. Really. I just get a little melancholy when I think about everything I lost that day. I… haven’t really got much of it back. It’s not going to affect my performance, I promise.”

"I'm sure it won't, I simply…" Lindsay exhaled harshly, appearing as though she were exasperated. "...I'm simply prying. Your pardon again, Darkflare. I suppose I've become enraptured by your tale I've forgotten my professionalism."

Her gaze turned to one apothecary at the other end of the tend, hunched over a stack of notes. A scowl formed on her face before she called out. "I'm sorry, does this soldier need to bleed out before you tend to her!?"

"The apothecary jumped in his seat, turning to see Lindsay and Anevay in the other end of the tent. "C-Commander!" He stammered, rushing over. "Apologies! I was simply-"

"Too busy with notes to tend to a patient," Lindsay huffed. "Tend to her. Now."

“Lady Ravensun!” Anevay said firmly, standing up and frowning at her. “I’m not in danger of bleeding out, they aren’t serious. Don’t bite the poor man’s head off, that’s hardly necessary!”

"I'm simply doing my job to ensure that everyone here is doing their job," Lindsay insisted. When it was clear that her words didn't appease the continued scowl on Anevay's face, her conviction wilted slightly. "...That said, I suppose I could have at least said please…"

“There was no need to roar at the man,” Anevay said, folding her arms. “I am more than capable of speaking for myself if there is an emergency. I do not need you yelling at others on my behalf.”

"...Very well," Lindsay said, raising two open hands up in a show of concession. "You're the patient. By all means." Her eyes drifted to the still skittish apothecary. Mostly because Anevay's own gaze perhaps looked a touch imposing. "...Apologies sir. My mouth got away from me. It does that."

“N-No trouble at all, C-Commander,” the apothecary said nervously, glancing between Lindsay and Anevay. “I-I’ll get to your injuries in just a moment, Ch-Champion.”

“Thank you, apothecary,” Anevay smiled as she sat back down.

Lindsay turned and left the tent without another word. After a few moments, the apothecary sat down in front of her and started cleaning her wounds.

“I can’t believe you actually stood up to her,” the apothecary said nervously.

“She’s only one Commander. I’ve mouthed off to both Warchiefs in the past,” Anevay chuckled.

The apothecary stopped and looked up at Anevay curiously. His swab hovered over her arm as he mulled over what the Champion had just said. She didn’t know? Surely she had to. If she didn’t, that means she had just…

“If you say so, Champion,” he said as he returned his attention to the injuries on her arm. “If you say so…”


	2. If You'd Like to Get a Drink With Me

“I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of waiting around for those scouts,” Anevay huffed as she entered the command tent where Lindsay was waiting for her. “It’s been three days and still no report. We need to get their ranks broken before the Dark Lady skins us all alive.”

Lindsay looked up from the sabre she was sharpening. A slight quirk formed in her brow to match a lopsided grin. “Not that I disagree with that sentiment, but I thought you said you could take the Dark Lady,” she snickered.

“I can. I don’t  _ want  _ to,” Anevay scoffed. “I’d sooner take a knife to my own eyeballs than betray her. If it were any other Horde leader I’d have a blade in their back before you could finish suggesting it.”

The Undead woman’s eyes widened a fraction before an approving smile grew on her dark lips. “That’s a splendid attitude to have, Lady Darkflare,” she said, running the whetstone over her blade once more. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were Forsaken already.”

“I thought we covered this when I arrived,” Anevay laughed. “I owe her, she’s been very accommodating toward me, and gay little heart singing.”

“So you’ve said,” Lindsay chuckled. “Not that such an opinion is unpopular amongst the Forsaken by any means. However, I wouldn’t be surprised if such a thought grants you strange looks from the rest of the living. They usually aren’t so outspoken about their love of the cold.”

“I’m already getting strange looks for wanting to live in Lordaeron and having a positive opinion of Sylvanas in the first place,” Anevay said dismissively. “As if it’s a problem that I appreciate the Dark Lady’s kindness.”

“Typical,” Lindsay scoffed as she placed her newly sharpened sabre into her sheath. “The living can’t accept the notion that we’re capable of genuine emotions and compassion. Something has to be wrong with one person for the other to think so.”

“Yeah. Lor’themar thought she put me under some kind of spell,” Anevay rolled her eyes. “I don’t even think she can actually do that.”

“Well if she’s anything like other Banshee’s, I imagine the closest thing she can do would be to possess you,” Lindsay explained. “Though the especially strong willed can resist such things so you could possibly block her attempts.”

“That is a good point. The question is though… would I  _ want  _ to resist?” Anevay said with a wry smirk.

Lindsay blinked. “...You would  _ want _ the Dark Lady to be insi-” She paused, silent for a beat before she scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Nevermind, I just got it.”

“I’m so happy you said it, because I didn’t want to have to,” Anevay laughed as she sat back down at the table.

“Careful, Darkflare,” Lindsay smirked. “One might get the impression you fetishize the Dark Lady.”

“Oh no, my appreciation and affection is very genuine,” Anevay shook her head. “It’s just… she is  _ very  _ pretty.”

“Oh is she?” Lindsay's smile remained, though her eyes fell to the table. “I can’t say I noticed that.”

“What, are you straight?” Anevay laughed. “That’s the only way I could imagine anyone not noticing.”

Lindsay shrugged. “Well I’m not averse to beautiful women,” she said plainly. “I just never had the privilege of courting one so I never gave it much thought. The opportunity has presented itself even less in my undeath.”

“Hmm, that’s quite a shame,” Anevay smirked as she propped her head up against her hand. “Because you’re quite beautiful yourself, Lindsay.” 

Lindsay blinked before looking away, her hand lifting the cover part of her face. “Oh, hush,” she murmured against her palm. 

“I’m serious,” Anevay’s smirk turned into a considerably warmer smile. “You’re quite stunning. I had to collect myself when I first saw you.”

Lindsay kept her head turned away, but tilted her gaze back to Anevay. “...You really think so?”

“I do,” Anevay nodded, before taking notice of Lindsay’s posture and the way she avoided looking at her. “...I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?”

“Hmm? Oh, no.” Lindsay shook her head. “It’s just… no one’s called me beautiful since my death. It’s… it’s nice to hear honestly.”

“Really? Nobody? That’s practically a crime,” Anevay scoffed. There was a moment of silence between them as Anevay considered her options.

Lindsay was quite a beautiful woman. And aside from that one incident with the apothecary, she was quite pleasant as well. Anevay had been flirting with her since she arrived, yet it hadn’t actually occurred to her to see if anything could happen from this.

She took a breath and steeled herself. It was time to put herself out there.

“I mean… if you’d like to get a drink with me when this is all over…” she trailed off, smiling at the woman who had yet to turn back around.

Lindsay slowly turned back, her eyes wide and her lips parted ever so slightly. Her crimson gaze flickered as countless silent thoughts crossed her mind. The moment of silence grew tense before a smile returned to the Forsaken’s face. “...I think I’d like that.”

“Lovely!” Anevay grinned, standing up and shouldering her rucksack. “Well that certainly gives me motivation to finish this campaign more quickly. I’ve got to get my weapons sharpened, I’ll be back in a few hours.”

With that, she turned and stepped outside…

And nearly ran face-first into Nathanos.

“Whoa!” she said, stopping suddenly. “Sorry, Nathanos.”

“As graceful and observant as ever, Darkflare,” the Ranger Lord said dryly. His crimson gaze turned to the other Forsaken, his lip pursing into a thin line. “Commander, I will need a word with you.” 

Lindsay nodded and rose from her seat, flashing Anevay a parting smile before she departed. “I look forward to seeing you after the battle Lady Darkflare.” She waited to see Anevay smile in kind before she followed Nathanos outside. 

Once they were out of earshot of anyone else, Nathanos turned back to flash Lindsay an unamused look. “What are you doing?”

The Forsaken woman flashed a devious grin. “A little reconnaissance among my forces, Ranger Lord. Nothing more.” 

Nathanos raised an eyebrow at her. “Has Darkflare been fully briefed on the situation?”

“Not quite,” Lindsay shrugged. “She provided extremely valuable information on Koltira’s prior conflicts of interest. But she is unaware that I’ve been watching him for a while. Or… that I’m not who I say I am.”

“And what was that I heard about a drink?” Nathanos arched a cynical brow.

“Just a harmless bit of fun,” Lindsay said with a smile.

“You’re tormenting the girl, aren’t you?” Nathanos huffed. “You know this disguise will have to come off eventually, right?”

“It will be fine,” Lindsay said airily, waving Nathanos off. “She’ll just squirm a little and we will move on from there.”

“Hmm,” Nathanos was dismissive, but there was the ghost of a troubled look on his face. “So, what is this intel about Deathweaver?”

“Apparently he has a friendship with the death knight Thassarian. Darkflare described it as not unlike you and I,” Lindsay explained. “That explains why he’s been so hesitant to take any decisive action. We are going to focus on taking Andorhal, and then I will deal with Deathweaver personally.”

“You did always have a compulsive need to be theatrical,” Nathanos said with a knowing roll of his eyes. “Well it looks as though you have everything here handled. Should I tell the Apothecarium to expect a visitor?”

“Indeed you should,” Lindsay smirked, patting Nathanos on the shoulder. “Andorhal will be ours, and soon the Plaguelands will be under the control of the Forsaken once and for all. And that death knight will learn where his loyalties must lie.”

“Of course,  Dark Lady ,” Nathanos said, inclining his head slightly before turning to walk away. 

* * *

Lindsay smiled, her eyes trailing over to the Great Hall where she caught Deathweaver attempting to look busy. The temptation to just walk over there and make the traitor pay for their impudence was nearly impossible to resist. Yet, resist she did. It would taste all the sweeter after the fact. After they retake Andorhal from the Alliance and lay waste to their Death Knight. Once that was taken care of, then Deathweaver would be dealt with.

Anevay ripped her warblade out of the midsection of the Knight, turning her glare toward the Alliance command center. The assault had gone off without a hitch. Ravensun had given her command of their entire forces, and Anevay had carved a bloody path through the Alliance forces, pushing them back to their main base. But as they entered and started capturing it, she noticed the Death Knight wasn’t there.

“Where did that blasted-”

There was a scream in the distance, and Anevay and Lindsay whirled around just in time to see a Val’kyr shriek before vaporizing into mist, Thassarian’s runeblade thrust forward where her midsection had once been.

“Aradne!” Anevay yelled, looking mortified. “I thought I put a guard around her?!”

“You did,” Thassarian said with a wry grin, drawing attention to the Forsaken skull helm he had crushed under his boot. “I took care of them.” 

The Death Knight trained his runblade onto Anevay, his icy blue eyes rich with blood lust. “Now… let’s see the power that felled the Lich King, shall we?”

Anevay glared at Thassarian as she stepped forward and down the small hill to meet him in the town square, Lindsay following not too far behind. She flourished her warblade, practically seething with rage. “You’re going to pay for that. Once I’m through with you, I’m going to peel the flesh off your boy toy.”

“Funny. I was about to say once I was through with you, I’m going to enjoy torturing your precious Banshee,” Thassarian sneered.

Anevay growled and swung her warblade, colliding with Thassarian’s with an explosive bang. She immediately moved on the offensive, pushing Thassarian back with furious and frenzied strikes.

Thassarian was sturdier than most Alliance warriors, that much was certain. Between his own martial prowess and command of the dead, he had a fair amount in his arsenal to contend with Anevay’s unrelenting fury. He was less knocked over and more pushed back inch by bloody inch. 

But push him back she did. Thassarian was, by no means the first Death Knight Anevay ever fought. Nor the deadliest. The ghouls he summoned were disposed of almost effortlessly. Volleys and bolts of unholy magic were either evaded or literally swatted away with her saronite gauntlets. Thassarian saw every bit of the warrior that sent the Lich King to his final grave.

As she would send him to his as well. Like death itself, his loss was an inevitability.

And so he decided to do the smart thing.

With a flick of his hand, ice formed in the air around Anevay’s legs and bound her feet to the ground. Anevay struggled, but each pull of her foot only cracked the ice. This game Thassarian the time he needed to pull back and summon a Death Gate.

“As fun as this is, Darkflare, I’m afraid I have other matters to attend to,” he sneered, stepping through the gate, which vanished the moment he was gone.

“No!” Anevay growled, wrenching a leg free and running forward to where the gate had vanished. “Dammit! I’m going to kill that mongrel!”

A faint rustling caught her ear as she turned to see Terrance pulling himself out of the wreckage of a freshly collapsed roof. 

Dusting himself off, he looked about to see a remarkable absence of able bodied Alliance soldiers. “Hey. Just got done getting out of all that damned rubble. What’d I miss?”

“We lost a Val’kyr and the Death Knight escaped,” Anevay growled, sheathing her warblade and quietly fuming as she turned back to Lindsay. “We captured Andorhal, but with heavy losses. The Dark Lady is going to skin me alive for this.” 

“Yikes,” Terrance winced. “My condolences, Lady Darkflare.” In truth, it was truly all he had to offer her. A widely accepted reality was that those who betrayed the Dark Lady, or otherwise failed her this severely seldom ever came out of it alive. To try and leap to Anevay’s defense would only ensure that person shares in her punishment. Something she didn’t want anyone to try and do. Even if Sylvanas decided to be merciful, it was unlikely she was ever going to trust the blood elf with something this important ever again. There was no scenario where this ended positively well for her. 

“Well… I’ll rally our troops and search the grounds for any injured,” Terrance said, giving Anevay a polite salute before he departed.

Anevay returned to the captured base and sat down on a crate as Lindsay watched her carefully. “You seem troubled?”

“I’ve been responsible for the Dark Lady losing half her Val’kyr,” Anevay groaned. “Taking the city and outing a traitor aren’t going to bring me back from losing Aradne. I promised no major losses, and I failed. She’s going to have me hung, drawn and quartered for this. I promised her I wouldn’t fail this badly again!”

Lindsay frowned, looking outward to the ruined command center. She could see the lingering aura of the fallen Val’kyr hang in the air slightly. With Aradne gone, the Forsaken had lost half of the Val’kyr that were necessary to keep their people alive. All within the span of a year since they came into Sylvanas’ service. Their eastern front was secured, but such a loss is difficult to justify it. Such a failure would be difficult to overlook. 

“...We could pin this on Deathweaver,” Lindsay suggested, turning back to look at Anevay. “Say that his treachery allowed his old friend to slay Arande.”

Anevay shook her head. “Deathweaver’s days are already numbered. This was my failure. It’s my responsibility. I won’t lie to Sylvanas.”

The frown on Lindsay’s face deepened as she continued to contemplate. “...I could take the fall,” she proposed. “I’ve seen you in battle, Anevay. Sylvanas will need a warrior like you more than she needs me.”

Anevay shook her head again. “No. I had command. This is my failure and mine alone. Nobody’s taking the fall for me.”

An exasperated sigh left Lindsays lips. So much for that plan. “...I mean, the good news is that if she does indeed kill you, there’s always a chance that she’ll bring you back.”

“A slim chance. I  _ want  _ to be Undead. She’s not likely to grant that request in light of my failure,” Anevay sighed and sat back against the wall. “Shame. I was looking forward to spending more time with you.”

Lindsay let out a huff of wry laughter. “I’m glad you consider drinks with a dead woman preferable to death itself.” The moment of levity passed and the two were left in melancholy once more.

Anevay sighed and stood up. She looked positively defeated and seemed to be dreading what was to come. “Well, I guess I’d better summon her and Blightcaller and present the results of the battle. Safe travels, Lady Ravensun,” she said, turning for the gate.

“Safe travels, Lady Darkflare,” Lindsay said, nodding in kind. She watched as Anevay walked away. A crease formed between her brow as confliction raged behind her eyes. As depressingly dejected as the blood elf behaved, she was right. The loss of a Val’kyr was severe and the commanding officer responsible needed to be reprimanded. Such a thing could not go ignored. 

With a weary, unnecessary sigh, the undead woman hoisted herself back to her feet. She sheathed her sabre and made way to their base. There were matters she had to attend to as well. 

* * *

“What have you brought me here for, Darkflare?!” Koltira demanded. “The battle is won, why are we still standing around?!”

“You’ll wait for the Dark Lady and Blightcaller,” Anevay hissed, already in a foul mood and not wanting to put up with any more of the Death Knight’s prattling.

After a moment or two, Nathanos came into the Hall with Lindsay following along behind him. The two of them stared down the Warrior and the Death Knight, Nathanos with an annoyed expression on his face. Then again, what else was new?

“Well? What have you called me here for?” Nathanos demanded.

“I uh… I’m still waiting for the Dark Lady, Nathanos,” Anevay said with uncertainty. “I… you know what? I can deliver my report twice. Andorhal has been taken.”

“Splendid. The Dark Lady will indeed be pleased,” Nathanos smirked.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Anevay winced. “In my negligence, Thassarian was able to kill Aradne.”

The smirk fell, Nathanos’ expression growing dour. “Is that so?”

“I warned you that Thassarian was dangerous,” Koltira hissed at Anevay. “If you had just waited for my scouts to return with their report, this wouldn’t have happened! The Forsaken suffered a heavy loss today because of your negligence!”

“You’re not one to talk about Negligence, Deathweaver,” Lindsay sneered, stepping out from behind Nathanos.

“And what is that supposed to mean, Deathguard?” Koltira challenged with a scowl.

“Lady Darkflare informed me about your little friendship with that Alliance dog!” Lindsay said sharply. “It’s the reason our forces have been sitting on our hands for weeks! It’s the reason that Alliance presence in the Plaguelands became as severe as it did. You couldn’t bring yourself to raise a blade to your former ally and was content just fucking around! If you had manned up and killed Thassarian sooner, we could have avoided all of this!”

“That is a ridiculous accusation! I took a patient and methodical approach that would have spared us heavy losses!” Koltira scowled, advancing on Lindsay. “And what proof do you have of this drivel? The world of an unknown Dreadguard and a disgraced Champion? Sylvanas will never believe this nonsense after your failures!”

A beat of silence passed, during which, Lindsay’s grin grew to border on insidious. 

“Is that what you think?” she challenged. “Well then…”

With a snap of her finger, the Dreadguard’s form erupted into a thick cloud of black mist. The gust of necromantic power hung in the air for a moment before subsiding. When it faded, Lindsay Ravensun was gone. 

Standing in her place was Sylvanas Windrunner. 

And the look on Anevay and Koltira’s faces were positively priceless. Koltira stepped back slightly, completely caught off guard. His eyes betrayed the fear of Sylvanas’ sudden appearance.

Anevay was a different story entirely. She shifted from surprise, to horror, to complete and total mortification. Her hand came up to cover her mouth as she stumbled back and sat down on a crate. Lindsay Ravensun had been Sylvanas the entire time. She confessed to a decades-long attachment to Sylvanas. She’d flirted with Sylvanas. She’d attempted to court  _ Sylvanas _ .

Her face went completely pale as she realized Sylvanas had been there to witness her failures first-hand. She was well and truly fucked at this point.

“D-Dark Lady!” Koltira exclaimed, struggling to keep his composure. “I… I hadn’t realized that was you.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Sylvanas drawled, eyeing the Death Knight as if he were her prey. In truth, he very much was. “Otherwise the plan to discover the truth behind your ineptitude would not have succeeded. Now I know it wasn’t ineptitude. It was treason.”

“No! It…” Koltira began to tremble slightly. “My Queen, you misunderstand. I can explain.” 

“Oh I think I understand perfectly, Deathweaver,” Sylvanas sneered. Her ears flicked at the sound and sensation of a gust of arcane suddenly filling the room. All eyes turned to the portal that just formed, save for Sylvanas. She kept her gaze firmly on the Death Knight, watching the shock and growing horror on his face as a large hook and chain shot from the mystical doorway and ensnared him. 

“M-My Queen!” he cried out, struggling fruitlessly to resist the force that was pulling him closer to the portal. “Please! No!”

“Fret not, Deathweaver,” Sylvanas tutted. “You will not die. You shall simply be cleansed of your weakness. When I’m through with you, Thassarian will be the farthest thing from your mind.” 

Screams of terror echoed in the stone walls of the room before Koltira was completely pulled through the portal that closed behind him. The silence that filled the Hall after he was gone was practically deafening.

“Now, as for you,” Sylvanas said, turning to Anevay.

Anevay looked up, the terror in her eyes apparent to the both of them. “My Queen, I am so sorry. My failures, my disrespect, I… I have no excuse for any of it.”

“Disrespect?” Sylvanas cocked a brow. “Is there something you wish to tell me, Darkflare? Are you confessing to besmirching my name on top of the fucking mess that was this operation?”

Anevay winced under Sylvanas’ harsh tone. “I was referring to everything I said to you while you were in disguise…”

Sylvanas made a small hum of acknowledgement as Anevay’s meaning became clear. “Such gossip is hardly comparable to the severity of this loss, Darkflare,” she chided sharply, crossing her hands as her gaze on the blood elf grew hot. “As for your punishment… I shall concede, recent failures notwithstanding, you are far too capable a warrior to simply dispose of. And the fact that you understand the severity of your failures means torture will be no fun.” Her lips pursed in thought as she continued to ponder. “What do you think, Nathanos?”

“I’m not so certain,” Nathanos pursed his lips as he watched Anevay practically cowering in fear. “Lashing the girl would be amusing. On the other hand, considering her behavior toward you during this campaign, it appears she is thoroughly humiliated as it is. I suppose it all depends on exactly how merciful you are feeling, my Queen.”

“I suppose it does,” Sylvanas nodded, her gaze finding Anevay’s quaking form again. The clawed digits of her gauntlets drummed loudly as she continued to ponder. “It would seem that your bloodlust against the Alliance has made you reckless, Darkflare,” she said finally, uncrossing her arms as she came to a decision. “That will need to be rectified. I’m removing you from field duty for six months. Instead, you will be tasked with training soldiers in the War Quarter. Perhaps your time as a teacher will teach you a more cautious temperament.”

Anevay looked up at her, surprised and only slightly suspicious. “I… yes, my Queen,” she said. As she spoke, she couldn’t help but sigh in relief that she wasn’t about to be killed or exiled. “I’ll curb my recklessness if it’s the last thing I do.”

“See that you do,” Sylvanas said firmly. “Now return to the Undercity at once before I give your quarters to Clea and make you sleep in the Apothecarium!”

“Yes, Dark Lady!” Anevay nodded, getting up and running from the Hall, not once glancing back at either of them.

She practically sprinted for the hitching post where she’d left Skash’ka, the Garn’s head bolting up when she heard her coming. She mounted her wolf quickly and ruffled her fur. “Undercity,” she said, and Skash’ka took off. 

Once she was finally moving, the stress and fear finally reached their boiling point and she clapped her hand to her mouth as she started crying. The last four days she had been flirting with Sylvanas, and she had just stood there and let her continue making an absolute fool of herself. She wasn’t sure why, whether for amusement or some other reason, but what she was sure of was that it hurt a lot more than she’d ever thought it would.  But… did she have any right to be hurt? After everything Sylvanas has done for her? After Anevay’s actions, or inactions, cost the Banshee Queen half of her Val’kyr? Was she entitled to this pain after costing her Queen so much already? She wasn’t sure, and that uncertainty made it hurt even worse. 

Her sobs were so severe, that Skash’ka could be heard whimpering with worry. 


	3. That We Would Share a Drink

Anevay dismissed her recruits for the day, and they all relaxed and filed out of the War Quarter. After a week of training new soldiers, she’d gotten a deeper understanding of the strain Forsaken bodies were put under and resolved not to overwork her students too severely. In some way, even the Forsaken needed rest.

As she sat down at a table with a quill and some parchment, she heard the unmistakable sound of Sylvanas entering the War Quarter. She glanced up and locked eyes with the Dark Lady and sighed, standing up to go meet her.

As Sylvanas drew closer, Skash’ka sat up from where she’d been lying and started growling at Sylvanas, baring her fangs in a manner that clearly signified that she was hostile.

“I can see that she does not approve of your demotion,” Sylvanas huffed before shifting her gaze back to Anevay. “How does this day find you, Lady Darkflare?”

Anevay put a hand on Skash’ka’s mane and cooed at her to settle down, to which the Garn obliged and laid back down, though she never took her eyes off Sylvanas. “It’s not the demotion that has her angry. It’s… it’s not important. She won’t attack, I can promise you that,” Anevay explained. “And it’s… fine. The recruits are learning quickly. I actually just dismissed them for the night.”

Sylvanas arched a curious brow. “Did you? Interesting. I would receive endless complaints about the last trainer who would wear our recruits ragged. I take it you’ve listened to their grievances?”

“Yes,” Anevay nodded, avoiding eye contact with Sylvanas. “I’ve been learning more about how the Forsaken work physically through doing this. And since I’ll need to sleep at night anyway, it only makes sense to allow them to do the same.”

“A fair approach,” Sylvanas nodded before her lips pursed into a thin line. “I am going to presume that this means your business is concluded for the rest of the day.”

“You would presume correctly, Dark Lady,” Anevay confirmed, her eyes still cast to the cobblestone floor. 

“Wonderful.” With an amused, lopsided smile, Sylvanas reached to pull something out of her cloak and handed it over to Anevay. A pristine bottle of wine.

Anevay looked up and stared at it, an eyebrow raised and confusion written across her face. “Uh… what’s this?”

“Well I recall the two of us coming to an agreement during the campaign in Andorhal,” Sylvanas replied.

Anevay’s face went slightly pale. “...A-Agreement?”

“That we would share a drink when the operation was complete,” Sylvanas clarified. “I had intended to follow you up on that sooner, but there have been other matters that demanded my attention for a time. Luckily, I’ve been able to clear some time for the rest of the day.”

Anevay’s brow furrowed as she pushed the bottle back toward Sylvanas. “I’m sorry, Dark Lady, but I was under the impression you were someone else entirely when I made that offer,” she said, stepping back from her slightly and trying not to let the distress show too clearly on her face.

Sylvanas blinked, Anevay’s response throwing off the turn of events she had prepared herself for. As a moment of quiet passed between them, it became clearer that Sylvanas wasn’t certain how to respond. 

“Ah yes. Ravensun,” Sylvanas murmured, her mind scrambling for something intelligible to follow up with. “In hindsight, I’m honestly amazed you didn’t see through that disguise when first you saw it. I’ll admit it wasn’t my finest work.”

Anevay turned away and absently scratched behind Skash’ka’s ears. Sylvanas bringing this up only caused her to remember how thoroughly humiliated she had been. How humiliated she still felt. “Well I’m not known for my perception. Or my intelligence, Dark Lady.”

The jovial air that Sylvanas had intended to conjure barely had time to sit before it evaporated into nothing. “...Is something the matter?” she inquired, noting that, even at her most despondent, Anevay never just turned away from Sylvanas like this. 

“You mean besides the fact that you completely and utterly humiliated me for your and Blightcaller’s amusement?” Anevay asked. Skash’ka yelped as she gripped her ear in anger, and Anevay immediately released her. “Sorry sweetie…” she whispered.

“Wait. You’re upset about _that_?” Sylvanas appeared genuinely confused. “All we did was exchange a bit of gossip. How was that humiliating?”

“I did more than just gossip,” Anevay said curtly, running her fingers through Skash’ka’s fur as the wolf stood up and nuzzled her.

Sylvanas opened her mouth. Then she closed it. That was true. Anevay did more than just exchange rumors and hearsay with Sylvanas while she was in her disguise. She admitted to finding the Banshee Queen beautiful. She imparted delicate information to her. She made a thoughtful offer to whom she believed to be her own person. 

“...And you’re upset that I let you do so?” Sylvanas conjected.

“You should have told me it was you from the start. You shouldn’t have just let me continue making a fool of myself like that,” Anevay said, her voice cracking. “I should have been able to decide whether or not I wanted you to know the things I told you.”

“You spoke of matters pertaining to me,” Sylvanas countered. “Am I to believe you would give such information freely to a soldier you barely know before telling me?”

“The things I said about you were either common knowledge, or pure conjecture of my own,” Anevay said, turning around. Sylvanas could see the tears sliding down her cheeks at last. “I never said a word about anything sensitive regarding you. Like your illicit affair with Proudmoore. Or how you wept when she left you. I kept that information tightly sealed like a vault we because I knew you wouldn’t want your Forsaken to know that!”

A flash of anger flared behind Sylvanas’ eyes. To think that Anevay would speak such words to the Banshee Queen in her own city, much less use a moment of her own weakness against her… it did more than irritate her. “Then what else could you possibly be referring to?” she demanded curtly.

“Information about myself that I didn’t want _you_ to know,” Anevay said as Skash’ka moved to place herself between Anevay and Sylvanas. “That I would have thought twice about saying if I knew you were around.”

“What? Like how you can supposedly bewitch my people with the touch of your hand?” Sylvanas inquired sharply. “Or how you believe you could kill me if you so chose to? Or are you referring to how your being supposedly _enamored_ with me is what’s stopping you from doing either? Was it anything to do with that, or am I still missing something?”

Anevay broke eye contact and looked at the doorway, saying nothing. Skash’ka’s fur bristled as she locked her eyes on Sylvanas and growled, Anevay’s soothing strokes to her fur no longer calming her. Sylvanas’ eyes continued to burn, unsatisfied with the silence. The lack of knowing. The uncertainty began to gnaw at her in a way she didn’t want to admit. And that mutt’s incessant growling wasn’t helping her mood. 

“Well then,” she said curtly. “If you aren’t in the mood to talk, I will just take my leave then.” She turned on her heel and moved to exit the War Quarter.

Anevay looked up, watching Sylvanas walk away. Suddenly she felt a tightness in her chest. She didn’t want Sylvanas to be angry with her, even though _she_ was still so very angry in kind. “Wait!”

Sylvanas stopped. She didn’t want to stop, but she did. Something about the desperation in Anevay’s voice superseded any command she would have given her body. She was asked to wait, so she waited. 

Soon the silence that hung between them became unbearable. “Just… tell me,” Sylvanas said in little above a whisper. “What did I hear you say that has left you so… mortified?”

Anevay gently nudged Skash’ka out of the way and approached her. Her eyes were still wet with tears, and every fibre of her being was telling her to flee. But she needed this air cleared before a fight broke out. “...Everything. Kalira hugged me several months ago, and was practically drunk of what she felt when she touched me. And it seemed like she talked because Cyndia came to my room practically chomping at the bit to try it for herself. I don’t just think I can have an effect on the Forsaken, I’ve seen it happen. And I know she reported to you about it.”

She took a deep breath before continuing. “Yes, I believe I could take you in a fight. After carving through Icecrown, I don’t think there’s anyone I couldn’t kill if I wanted to. That doesn’t mean I would. But what I desperately did not want you to know was… how I felt about you. The last thing I wanted was to give the impression that my being here was for something so childish. I… I don’t actually want people thinking I… fetishize Undeath. I especially don’t want you to think that.”

Sylvanas’ eyes widened a fraction. It was bizarre how her earlier assumptions were technically on mark, but still paled in comparison to the actual problem. With as much respect as the Champion had for her, Anevay was especially careful how she approached her and the other Rangers. She did her damndest to be respectable and sincere. The thought of Sylvanas seeing her enthusiastic loyalty and dedication in such a shallow, selfish light mortified her. More to the point, the idea that Sylvanas wringed that sort of perception out of the Blood Elf under false pretenses was what truly humiliated her. 

As she understood, the anger drained away. Replaced swiftly by a growing pool of sympathy, remorse and a trickling hint of shame. 

“...If it’s any consolation,” she whispered just as the silence was about to become unbearable for the both of them, “I haven’t shared what you told me with anyone. Not even Nathanos. And… and I don’t think less of you for it. Any of it.”

Anevay clutched at her own sides and stared at the floor, fresh tears flowing freely. “Why didn’t you tell me it was you?” she asked, her voice cracking.

The sight of the tears caused something in Sylvanas’ chest to ache. The sight of Anevay being reduced to tears was borderline horrific. The knowledge that Sylvanas was the cause of it was positively shameful. 

“...I’m not exactly sure, to be honest,” she said quietly. Almost immediately she wanted to kick herself. That wasn’t enough. “Perhaps I was still acting on instinct and testing to see if I could truly trust you. Perhaps I worried that revealing myself to anyone before I apprehended Deathweaver would have compromised the operation. Perhaps…” She bristled, suddenly reluctant to give a voice to where her mind just went. A sign that she was about to say what was actually true. “...Perhaps I… liked the way you spoke to me. The causal banter. The flirting. It was a genuine side of you I haven’t truly seen. I… I enjoyed it.”

“It still should have been my decision whether or not I wanted you to see that side of me, Sylvanas,” Anevay said through shaking breath and barely contained sobs. “You violated my privacy and my trust. And then laughed about it with Blightcaller. I know I probably deserved it after costing you Aradne, but that was just cruel.”

A biting remark nearly flew from her lips out of sheer reflex. A counter saying that Anevay absolutely deserved it after the fiasco that was the Andorhal campaign. That intruding on someone’s privacy was hardly comparable to the loss of a resource that was key to the Forsaken’s survival. She very well would have said such a thing if she were speaking to anyone else. 

But she was speaking to Anevay now. 

“I understand,” she nodded, the words feeling alien on her tongue. “I… apologize for hurting you. It won’t happen again.”

Anevay looked up and met her eyes, surprised to hear an apology coming from Sylvanas. She’d expected to be yelled at. Dismissed. Demoted a second time. Possible exiled. An apology was… unheard of.

“Thanks…” she said quietly, before the stress became overwhelming and she cast her eyes back to the floor, sobbing pitifully as she turned to take the long route back to her quarters.

Sylvanas’ eyes widened further. She had barely a moment to dwell on the gravity of her own apology, her own admittance that she wronged someone, before Anevay’s tears demanded her attention. Despite an expression of gratitude for the apology, it seemed as the blood elf was weeping harder than before. That couldn’t be right. Did Sylvanas muck up the apology somehow. 

“Wait!” she said, extending a hand to Anevay. A hand that was very nearly bitten off when Skash’ka snapped at her.

Anevay turned around at Sylvanas’ demand just in time to see Skash’ka snap at her. “Skash’ka! Down!” she barked, snapping her fingers and pointing at her own feet. Skash’ka wilted and whimpered as she returned to Anevay’s side. “Don’t bite! Remember what I said! Gentle!”

Sylvanas eyed how swiftly the Garn’s mood changed from bloodthirsty to meek. She inspected her gantlet, blinking with surprise when she noticed the palm of her leather glove was torn cleanly down the middle. Luckily, Skash’ka’s teeth did not catch her skin when it grazed her hand, but it was wickedly clear that she came very close. 

“She is a vigilant watchdog,” Sylvanas said, a slight smile crossing her face. “Reminds me of Nathanos.”

“I’m sorry, Dark Lady,” Anevay said, her voice cracking on every syllable. Despite her harsh tone with Skash’ka, she hadn’t actually stopped crying. “I can pay for that.”

“That’s alright,” Sylvanas said, closing the hand with the ruined glove. “I can have it tended to myself.” The slight ease in the air faded quickly as she noticed that tears continued to trail down Anevay’s cheeks. “I… am more concerned about you, in truth.”

“...I’ve never experienced something like this before,” Anevay said quietly. “...Well… maybe the last time I was in the Undercity. But that was considerably different in nature.”

“How so?” Sylvanas asked with an arched brow. She winced, realizing that she was prying. “That is… if you wish to tell me.”

“...Last time I was here was when I returned your necklace to you, and… tried to reunite with Alina,” Anevay said quietly. “She laughed in my face for it.”

Sylvanas resisted the urge to wince again. That must of been a dreadful thing to recall when she was already in such a compromised state. 

A thought struck her.

“Wait… I thought the _last_ time you were here was when Varimathras took over,” she said. “I recalled that you managed to cleave one of his wings off.”

“I suppose it slipped my mind, but my point stands,” Anevay said, wiping her eyes with her cloak, which was torn and dirty. “For a while I avoided Lordaeron because of what happened with Alina.”

“Understandable,” Sylvanas murmured. An unpleasant thought rolled within her mind as a stomach that hadn’t eaten anything in years began to churn uncomfortably. “If what I have done has caused you such pain…” she trailed off, wanting more than anything to not voice such a possibility into existence. “...Then I won’t keep you here against your will. You are free to leave with my full understanding.”

Anevay looked back up at her and shook her head. “I don’t want to leave. I was afraid I would be exiled over my failures and over what you found out. I just… I don’t know what to do from here. I’m… I’m kind of a mess, Dark Lady. I’ve not been well since the Fall, and it’s only gotten worse since Icecrown. I thought having somewhere I could call home would help, but with each setback it’s becoming clearer to me that I’m not okay.”

“I see…” Sylvanas fell quiet for a time again. “Is there anything I can do? Our psylosophers don’t exactly specialize with the living, but I’m sure I can find someone who’s equipped to help you.” She wasn’t sure why she was making an offer to a soldier who had, admittedly, caused her a great deal of problems since arriving here. It seemed like every accomplishment Darkflare made on behalf of the Forsaken came with a caveat. And yet, the thought of her continued suffering wasn’t something the Dark Lady could bear.

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have these problems,” Anevay said quietly. “I just… every time I failed you, when I cost you your Val’kyr or when I neglected to stop Godfrey from killing you… I’m back on that hillside watching that bastard tear your soul into pieces… and I don’t know how to stop failing.”

Sylvanas frowned, watching as Anevay became more and more frantic despite her words never rising above a whisper. “Anevay,” she said softly, approaching the blood elf while ignoring the growls of warning from Skash’ka. “You know I hold none of that against you. Aradne’s death has already been addressed. Godfrey’s betrayal was my oversight. And there was nothing you could have done to stop what Arthas did to me. You may be the most capable fighter on Azeroth, but you are not a God. And I never thought of you as such.”

“Then why can’t I get the scream out of my head?” Anevay asked, snapping her fingers at Skash’ka to settle down. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dwelling on this. You must have it far worse than I do…”

“...Perhaps I do,” Sylvanas nodded. “But that doesn’t mean I enjoy seeing you this way.”

Anevay wiped her eyes with her cloak again and nodded. “...Thank you, that’s… that’s very kind of you…”

 _Kind_. How many of the living truly thought such a thing about the Banshee Queen these days? Anevay may very well have been the only one. “...I will search through our psylosophers and send you a list of candidates I think will be suitable for you.”

“...Thank you,” Anevay said quietly, her hand lifting toward Sylvanas before she stopped and brought it back down to her side. “Maybe I’ll look for some as well. Tomorrow. I desperately need rest.”

“Very well,” Sylvanas nodded, turning to leave the way she came. “I shall leave you to rest then. ...Thank you for your time Anevay.”

Anevay suddenly felt overcome with an urge she couldn’t summon the willpower to resist. She stepped forward as Sylvanas turned away and grabbed her hand. “Wait… just one more thing.”

Sylvanas inhaled sharply through her nostrils. It wasn’t the first time she felt the warmth of Anevay’s touch, but it caught her off her guard, same as before. After a brief moment to collect herself she turned back to look at Anevay. “...Yes?”

Anevay stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Sylvanas’ midsection, hugging her tightly and letting out a shaking breath the moment she felt the cold through the hardened leather. “Thank you,” she said. “For talking to me. And for understanding. I’ve missed you so much the last nine years.”

If Sylvanas was surprised by the way Anevay grabbed her hand, she was positively blindsided by this sudden embrace. The warmth of the elf’s body bled into hers, sending her mind into something of a haze. Her voice caught in her throat for a moment before she mustered the strength to speak. “...I missed you too,” she whispered, her arms resting on Anevay’s back.

Anevay squeezed tighter, feeling relieved that such a risky move hadn’t been met with anger and settling into a hug that was desperately needed. Her crying had diminished to a whimper as she rested her forehead against Sylvanas’ shoulder.

The Banshee Queen maintained her hold on Anevay. Were this anyone else she was hugging, her mind would have been flooded with awkwardness and unease. Anevay’s embrace, however, was nothing short of blissful. A sensation that she was rather unfamiliar with at this point, but hardly something worth complaining about. She eased further into the hug, a hand absentmindedly running along her back. 

“Mmm… your cloak has seen better days,” she murmured delicately, feeling the tattered fabric against her fingertips. “I suppose I’ll have to get that fixed.”

“You’re too kind,” Anevay whispered, tightening her grip briefly and giving her a final indulgent squeeze before pulling away. She wiped her eyes on her glove, sighing in relief that the crying was over.

Sylvanas allowed a small, cautious smile played at the edges of her dark lips. “...Before I leave you to your rest, there is one thing I would like to ask of you.”

“What would that be?” Anevay asked, feeling the exhaustion of the evening’s stress start to mount up on her. Her entire body ached and she felt like she would pass out the moment she reached her bed.

Sylvanas didn’t respond right away, suddenly swamped with a feeling of timidness. “I… I was hoping the two of us could put aside a night to share that bottle of wine.” She resisted the urge to wince the moment she spoke the words into existence. “Not that I don’t sympathize with your reservations. If you’d rather not, I understand.”

Anevay covered her mouth to stifle a yawn, nodding as she did so. “Sure,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “It’s been a while since I got drunk with the boss…” she gave a small chuckle.

Sylvanas’ smile became warmer and less cautious. “I look forward to it.” She turned to leave the War Quarter for a third time, this attempt not carrying an air of anger or melancholy to her step. “Rest well, Anevay.”

“You too,” Anevay nodded, turning to head back to her quarters. Again, taking the long route through the tunnels.

* * *

Anevay’s eyes pried themselves open at the sound of knocking on her door. Checking the clock, she’d been asleep for seven hours. Not a bad amount of rest, but not great either. She fumbled her way out of bed, her legs shaking and stumbling around.

The person on the other side knocked again, and Anevay grumbled. “Give me a minute! I’m fumbling in the dark!” she called out as she decided to just be lazy. She grabbed a cloak and wrapped it tightly around herself, covering herself as best she could before opening the door and staring bleary eyed at her visitor.

“Oh, Nathanos,” she yawned, clutching the cloak tighter. “What’s up?”

“Darkflare,” Nathanos responded with a curt nod. “I’ve come to offer you an opportunity to properly atone for your previous failings.” He studied Anevay’s confused, drowsy expression before continuing. “Thassarian has been spotted near the Glades. I’m organizing a hunt. Interested?”

“I’m off field duty for the next six months, aren’t I?” Anevay said, rubbing her eyes. No matter how much she tried, they just wouldn’t properly stay open.

“Delivering the head of Arande’s killer to the Dark Lady might convince her to rescind the sentence early,” Nathanos prosed his thick brow creasing with impatience. “I will need an answer from you before the trail goes cold.” 

“Then it’d be best if I say no, because I can’t seem to keep my-” her eyes snapped open with a sudden realization, which only caused the burning sensation to worsen. “Wait, where was he sighted? Bulwark or Silverpine?”

“Silverpine.”

“That’s right next to the bat tunnel. He’s sneaking in to rescue Deathweaver,” she said, hissing and rubbing her eyes again.

Nathanos blinked, noticeably thrown by Anevay’s assessment. “Are you sure?” 

“It makes too much sense,” Anevay said, stumbling through the dark of her room as she appeared to be looking for something. “He could slip through, not turn any heads from the layman, pick off any rangers that stand between him and the Apothecarium and then just take a Death Gate back home when he has his prize.” 

Nathanos continued to look positively thrown. “You figured all of that out in the state you’re in?”

“It’s not hard,” Anevay said. “I just figured what you would do if it were Sylvanas in captivity. Misdirect the hunting party, sneak in, sneak out. Thassarian’s too sentimental to be doing anything else, I promise you.”

Nathanos narrowed his gaze at Anevay, an unamused frown apparent on his face. Even in the dark. “You think I’m so predictable do you?”

“I think you’re capable and loyal too, if it’s any consolation.” Her hand patted along the sides of her bed before they found purchase against something. Pulling back, she revealed a sturdy sabre that glinted in the low light that seeped into the room. 

“Is that all you’re taking?” Nathanos asked with a quirked brow.

“Look, I don’t have time to suit up properly or even wake up. Do you wanna stand here questioning me or do you want to follow a lead?” Anevay asked, practically dunking her face in the full wash basin and letting the ice cold water snap her senses awake.

Nathanos rolled his eyes before taking a step out of the threshold to Anevay’s quarters. “Well then, you may want to secure the tie around your cloak at the very least.”

Anevay fumbled with the cloak and tied it around her waist. It would be good enough, she thought. Catching Thassarian was more important than a potential wardrobe malfunction. “I’ll go through the tunnels, you reinforce the apothecarium, alright?”

“Bold of you to be giving me orders,” Nathanos huffed, dawning a slight smirk as Anevay gave him an unamused glare. “I will send the rangers down to the Apothecarium,” he conceded. “If he gets that far, he won’t last long.”

Anevay took off into a run, heading into the tunnels that wound all around the outer ring of the city. They were intended for evacuations and flanking strategies in the event of an invasion, and were largely used by the Dark Rangers for patrols. As she turned down toward the Apothecarium, she heard footsteps come from the bat tunnel and ducked behind an outcropping. Just as she suspected, Thassarian came through and turned toward the apothecarium as well. Feeling vindicated, she crept out and followed him silently, thanking her lack of armor making it even possible for her to sneak around.

His heavy cloak and mask concealed any damning evidence regarding his appearance. Most Forsaken wouldn’t give such a figure a passing glance, understanding the undead’s desire to keep oneself covered in public. Luckily, Anevay could hear the clattering of plate beneath his cloak. She could see the familiar icy blue glow behind his eyes. Most importantly she could feel the ever lingering necromantic aura that was always about him. The aura that was unique to Death Knights. He moved as cautiously and as quietly as he could, but Anevay was even quieter. 

As they neared the stairwell to the Apothecarium, she could see the rising tension in Thassarian’s shoulders. He was being careful, but he was no rogue by any stretch of the imagination. He was absolutely on edge, ready to jump and draw his blade at the slightest of sounds. Such skittishness would make it easy for her to throw him off balance when the time came. Stooping down, she very quietly picked up a small stone and continued following him as they neared the Apothecarium. By her count, the Dark Rangers should have been organized by now, covering every entrance and exit. If she was careful enough, throwing the stone would not only distract Thassarian and send him into panic mode, it would alert the Dark Rangers which tunnel they would come out of.

Each step the Death Knight took down the staircase was steady and careful. Anevay ensured that her own barefooted steps would have been too silent to detect as she followed suit. He neared the bottom, looking around to see the Apothecaries going about their business, not paying him any mind. He resisted a sigh of relief as he began to draw his blade. 

The sound of a rock clattering down the steps compelled Thassarian to flich and whip around to face the source of the noise. He caught the sight of Anevay’s shit eating grin just before a volley of arrows shot from the darkness behind him, plunging deep into his back. Anevay rushed forward the moment they struck and plunged her sabre into Thassarian’s neck to stop him summoning another Death Gate to escape through. Shoving him forward, she pushed him off the ledge to fall into the apothecarium, the arrows bursting out of his chest the moment his back hit the floor.

The Death Knight spasmed and gargled in agony as thick black ichor seeped from his body and onto the cobblestone floor. Several pairs of crimson eyes suddenly became visible as nearly a dozen Dark Rangers stepped out of the shadows. 

“Well it looks as though your assumption was correct, Darkflare,” Nathanos said with a huff of amusement. “How nice of you to stop by Thassarian. No, don’t get up. It’s fine.”

Thassarian gurgled and struggled to speak with the sabre in his throat, reaching up toward Anevay as she came into view. Anevay kicked at his hand, immediately regretting it when her bare foot caught a metal gauntlet and sent a splitting pain through her toes. “AH! Bad idea…”

“I see your moments of genius come in short bursts,” Nathanos drawled, earning a round of snickers from the rest of the Dark Rangers. 

“Ranger Lord,” one Apothecary interjected, dragging a limp figure across the floor by a heavy chain as he entered. “I brought the prisoner.”

“Excellent,” Nathanos beamed.

Koltira looked up from where he was bound to flash Nathanos a venomous glare. His eyes soon fell to the other figure that laid nearly lifeless on the floor. Eyes that were filled with vitriol suddenly widened with horror. 

_“THASSARIAN!!!”_

“He was caught trying to break in here to rescue you,” Nathanos drawled as a contingent of Deathguard came into the Apothecarium with Sylvanas at their front.

“He likely won’t stay dead for long,” Anevay warned him. “Death Knights have a habit of coming back.”

Sylvanas pursed her lips as she watched Thassarian’s spasming mutilated body. She was very much aware of Death Knight’s ability to seek out a new body when theirs was damaged beyond repair. What perplexed her was how Thassarian had yet to release his spirit. 

Then she trailed his gaze to where he was looking. Koltira. Ah, that would explain it. 

“Well then, we best enjoy this moment of catharsis while it lasts,” Sylvanas said with a vindictive grin. 

Her eyes then trailed over to Anevay, who she hadn’t expected to be here when the alarm was sounded. And then noticed she was mostly covered by a cloak tied closed at the waist. “...Darkflare, did you rush into battle in just your leathers?”

“Um…” Anevay said sheepishly. “Actually Dark Lady, I was in more of a rush than that…”

Sylvanas blinked. “So… you aren’t…”

“Nope,” Anevay said with a flustered chuckle, clutching tightly at her cloak. 

A beat of silence passed.

“Take it off!” Bellowed Anya before Kalira swiped at the back of her head.

Anevay only clutched her cloak tighter and glared at Anya murderously. “What the fuck, Anya?!”

“What!? We were all thinking it!” Anya countered. 

Sylvanas scoffed. “Canal duty for a month,” she commanded, causing Anya to wilt slightly. Her attentioned turned to Thassarian who was still clinging to his failing body to look at Koltira. It was as if he was trying to commit everything about his fellow Death Knight to memory before he was killed. 

“How utterly sentimental,” she crooned mockingly before she brought a fierce boot onto Thasarrian’s skull.

There was a loud crack and everyone, including Nathanos, winced and looked away. No matter how much carnage they all saw on a daily basis, skull-crushing was still especially unsettling. The Dark Ranger started to disperse once the danger had passed, along with the Deathguard, leaving only Kolitra, Sylvanas, Nathanos and Anevay left in the Apothecarium.

“Well… I should probably be getting back to bed,” Anevay said, turning for the door as well.

“Hold, Darkflare,” Sylvanas said swiftly, catching the blood elf just as she was about to leave. The Dark Lady fixed her with a pensive look. “Did you know Thassarian would come here?”

Anevay nodded. “When Nathanos told me he was arriving through Silverpine, it seemed only obvious.”

A slight look of surprise crossed Sylvanas’ face before a pleased smile found it’s stead. “Well then. I should prepare to reward you appropriately when you awake.”

“Oh… thank you, Dark Lady,” Anevay smiled, as she turned back for the door. “Have a good night, the both of you.”

Sylvanas and Nathanos both nodded, although the former was the only one who offered a smile. She turned back to see the Ranger Lord suddenly shake his head at her. 

“What?” she asked tersely. 

“Nothing,” he shrugged.

“It’s not nothing, what is it?” Sylvanas scowled.

“It is simply that I suspect you might be fond of the girl,” he said with a wry smirk. “Nothing we haven’t gone over before.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “I was simply being polite. Not all of us have your aversion to professionalism.”

“Of course not, my Queen,” he said with a dramatic incline of his head. “And if you would be so kind as to sate my curiosity, how exactly do you intend to reward her in the morning?”

“That… is something I have not yet thought about,” Sylvanas said with a scoff. 

“Well I’m sure that whatever it is, it will be generous and appropriate.” His tone only earned him a more scornful glare from the Banshee Queen.

The banter was broken by the quiet yet deafening sound of sobbing. Both Sylvanas and Nathanos turned to see that Koltira was still chained on the floor and positively distraught. 

“Ah yes, I forgot you were still there,” Sylvanas huffed before casting her gaze onto the nearby Apothecaries. “Take him back to his cell.”

The robed figures obeyed, swiftly grabbing the heavy chains that restrained Deathweaver and hauling him back into the shadows.

“Well, I will see you in the morning,” Sylvanas nodded to Nathanos as she headed for the door, pondering over what she was going to do about Anevay the next day.

“I look forward to it,” he nodded in kind. He lingered within the Apothecarium for a moment longer as the sight of an arrow embedded into the stone wall caught his eye. 

“...I see Clea still needs work on her aim,” he huffed to himself.


	4. Asking Anyone Else For a Pity Fuck

Anevay was woken another six hours later by more knocking on her door. She grumbled again as she practically fell out of bed, quietly thankful that her bedroom was carpeted. Wrapping a cloak around herself and holding it closed, she stepped out of her bedroom and into the living area, opening the front door and yawning into the hand that clutched the fabric around herself.

“Yeah?” she asked, blinking away the sleep from her eyes as she realized it was Sylvanas at the door, too groggy to bother with proper decorum.

She was already naked and covered by a cloak anyway. Decorum was for those who were awake.

Sylvanas’ eyes widened a fraction as they traveled down Anevay’s body. With how closely she was holding the cloak to her form, her flattering silhouette was on full display. 

“...Apologies, Darkflare. Did I wake you?” she inquired, a curious mix of amused and flustered in her tone.

“Not as badly as Blightcaller,” Anevay smiled as she leaned her head down to wipe her eyes. “What can I do for you, my Queen?”

Sylvanas took but a moment to gather herself before she continued. “Well, I have handled the vast majority of my immediate duties throughout the night and was curious if you were willing to go over your reward for a job well done.”

“Oh, sure,” Anevay nodded, stepping back to let her inside. “Come in, I’m just going to go get dressed first,” she said, turning back toward her bedroom.

“Of course,” Sylvanas said with a nod. Gingerly, she stepped inside and looked over Anevay’s quarters while she retreated behind a closed door. The living space was tastefully decorated, littered with trinkets and trophies the blood elf had acquired in her travels. Over the hearth, she could see her old Farstrider’s longbow hung proudly. Something about the sight plucked at strings that Sylvanas had thought severed long ago. A memento of a simpler time that did not feel condescending to her very existence. Something that was very much like Darkflare herself. 

She wandered over to a case that had been stood against a single wall and dared to look inside, feeling something tighten in her chest as she did. It was a glass-covered case with a padlock on it, and inside were small pieces from what she assumed were major battles. A verdant sphere she’d likely taken from Kael’thas, a fragment of an orc skull that Sylvanas couldn’t quite identify, a shard of an urn with a piece of Lordaeron’s insignia on it, and then…

Her eyes widened and she backed away when she laid her eyes on a shard of a sword with an unmistakable rune on it. She’d taken a shard of Frostmourne as a trophy.

The seizing in her chest worsened with both proximity and realization. She clutched at her chestguard, an echo of pain shooting from the wound it concealed. A shard of that accursed blade was brought here, in the home of its many victims, without her knowledge. 

Her eyes were blown wide, the frozen pain she was reliving driving what little air was in her lungs. Her knees were shaking. She wasn’t expecting this. She was not prepared for this. Even in the Halls of Reflection she was prepared for the pain that blade would inflict on her from sheer proximity. But it wasn’t just the pain that shook her. It was the knowledge that Anevay brought it here.

Speak of the devil, Anevay had come out of her bedroom, adjusting the sleeves of her tunic and smiling. “Alright, that should be good enough for-” she stopped when she noticed the state Sylvanas was in and raised an eyebrow. “Sylvanas? What’s wrong? You look…”

Then her eyes wandered to the case she was staring at and realization dawned on her. The shard in the case! She didn’t secure it before Sylvanas came in.

“Oh shit!” she winced, rushing forward to the case and tapping the glass. Immediately, a violet shimmer surrounded it, stopping the lingering necrotic energy from seeping out from between the lid. “I’m so sorry, Dark Lady! I usually secure that before anyone comes in,” she said, rushing to Sylvanas and guiding her to sit on the sofa. “I have something that will help you relax.”

The unholy power she felt seeping from the case was suddenly silenced. The vast majority of Sylvanas’ tension swiftly vanished, leaving the Banshee Queen gasping for unneeded breath as she was led to the sofa. Any words of gratitude or harsh demands could not make it through the ragged, exasperated breaths she took purely by reflex. She barely registered what Anevay even said to her.

She clenched her eyes shut, focusing on getting herself together. The breaths she took were more steady and considered. She felt considerably better than she had a moment ago, but she was far from eased.

Anevay rushed to the small kitchen and pulled a vial and some herbs out of the cabinets. She quickly crushed the herbs and dumped them into the small cauldron. Simple herbs found in healing potions. Silverleaf and Bruiseweed. But along with them was Black Lotus, a normally poisonous herb. Quickly bringing the cauldron to a boil, she let the herbs simmer before taking a knife out of the block. Putting a small cut in her finger, she let a few drops of blood drip into the cauldron, causing the simmering mixture to turn a soft shade of green. Satisfied, she filled a vial and brought it out to Sylvanas.

“Here, drink this,” she said quietly. “It’ll relax you.”

A long lasting instinct told her not to accept the vial, but it was swiftly overruled by reason. She silently took what Anevay offered to her holding it pensively to her lips before she took a proper drink. As it hit her nostrils, something about the aroma was… remarkably soothing. With her guard satisfied, she took a slow, cautious sip on its contents. 

As soon as it hit her tongue she was feeling the effects. The flavor somehow excited her long dead taste buds and flowed smoothly down her throat as she compelled herself to swallow. She remained silent for a moment, a sort of haze washing over her mind. 

“That…” she trailed off, almost forgetting her words. “That was… really nice. What was that?”

“Felblood Elixir,” Anevay explained, taking the vial from her and setting it down on the small table beside the sofa. “I developed it myself in Northrend to help the Forsaken deal with anxiety around the Scourge. It calms and heals the Undead.”

“It… certainly did the trick,” Sylvanas said, feeling slightly dizzy from the concoction. “Have you… have you shared the recipe with my Apothecaries? I feel like they could use it.” 

Anevay nodded. “It’s a simple recipe. Silverleaf, Bruiseweed, Black Lotus and Felblood,” Anevay explained. “I gave it to them a while ago. It’s not an elixir they can ever have a good supply of, but it’s good that they have it at least.”

“Felblood,” Sylvanas murmured, her soothed mind beginning to form the skeleton of a thought. She focused on the flavor that lingered on her tongue. There was a definite taste of iron there. And something more… exciting. “So.. did I just drink…?”

“Sorry, I don’t exactly have a captive Demon Hunter lying around so…” she held up her cut hand with a sheepish look on her face.

“Oh.” Sylvanas ran her tongue over the roof of her mouth a moment longer, continuing to savor the taste. “...Well… I like it. You should feed me your blood more often.” 

The Banshee Queen blinked as she suddenly realized what she just said. “...Oh, wait. No… No, that was weird, wasn’t it?”

“Trust me, I’ve heard weirder things said after I give someone this elixir,” Anevay smiled, clapping her on the shoulder. “The apothecaries have it officially listed as a side effect.”

“Oh, well alright then,” Sylvanas nodded, feeling a sense of relief as she relaxed against the sofa. Her eyes were drawn to the pleasant violet glow of the case across the room. Her brow furrowed slightly. “Actually, you know what’s _really_ weird,” she prompted, pointing at the case. “That you have a piece of… of _that_ in there. What’s… what’s that about?”

Anevay turned to the case, immediately understanding what she was talking about. “After me and Fordring shattered the blade, it went mostly inert. So I took a piece of it as a trophy. And a bit of assurance that nobody could reforge it.”

Sylvanas’ lips pursed slightly as Anevay’s words rolled over in her slightly hazed mind. If anyone was especially bold, they might have described her current expression as cute. 

After a moment of silent contemplation, Sylvanas eventually nodded. “Okay… okay, I can buy that.” 

“I’m sorry for not informing you, my Queen. I’d assumed knowing it was in there would only distress you,” Anevay bowed her head.

Sylvanas let out a soft exhale from her nostrils. “Well… if it distresses me any further… I'll just have another helping of this elixir.” A smile that the especially bold might call goofy spread across the Dark Lady’s lips. “This is good shit.” 

Anevay laughed and sat down on a chair across from her. “I think I should tell the apothecaries not to let you have too much of that. You are not going to like the effects once you sober up.”

“Oh what? Will I be hung over?” Sylvanas snickered. “Has the curse of undeath not at least rendered me immune to such inconveniences?”

“No, you’ll just remember everything you just said and kick yourself,” Anevay chuckled. “Trust me, this isn’t something you want to get addicted to.”

Sylvanas pouted. She actually pouted. “There’s always a catch to everything isn’t there?” she huffed before falling lax against the sofa. 

“I’m afraid so,” Anevay shrugged, unable to resist giggling at the sight of Sylvanas in such a state. “The only alternative would be to remain drunk off this stuff forever.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Sylvanas said with a huff of laughter. A moment of comfortable silence passed between them before a knit formed between the Dark Lady’s brow. “...Why did I come here again?”

“You said something regarding the capture of Thassarian last night,” Anevay smiled, relaxing on the chair and sitting with her legs crossed.

“Oh, yes!” Sylvanas face lit up as she leaned forward in her seat. “Alright, well, first and foremost, you’re back on field duty. Like, no fucking shit. Secondly…” Sylvanas felt quiet again, her expression growing pensive. “...Ah, dammit. I know I was going to throw something in as a bonus but it got away from me.”

“That’s okay, take your time,” Anevay nodded. She’d seen enough Forsaken drunk on this elixir to know it could really screw with their thoughts at times. If anything, it only confirmed her suspicion about just how compromised Forsaken could become under her influence if she wasn’t careful.

Sylvanas drummed her fingers against her thigh as she continued to ponder. “Hmm… I’m not sure. Is… Is there anything you would want as a bonus?” In truth, with how good Sylvanas was feeling in that moment, she felt keen on giving Anevay _anything_ she might ask for, though she oddly enough didn’t voice that reality.

“I… can’t think of anything, really,” Anevay said. In truth, a few bold requests shot through her head that she didn’t dare ask for under normal circumstances. She especially didn’t want to ask for any of them while she was blood-drunk. “I mostly have everything I need.”

“Well, shit,” Sylvanas huffed, slumping back into her seat. “There has to be something. I don’t…” Her eyes widened as a thought crossed her mind. “Wait. I think I got it!” she exclaimed. “On the event that I ever, on some perverse Titan’s whim, become Warchief… I shall name _you_ my High Overlord.”

Anevay jolted from her calm and relaxed state and stared boggle-eyed at Sylvanas. “Okay, that’s the Felblood talking. Maybe you should just relax and let the elixir settle.”

“Very well, but once it does settle and I say the exact same thing, you’re going to look mighty foolish for doubting me,” Sylvanas said with a self satisfied grin, reclining back against the sofa.

“Yes of course, how silly of me to not be grateful for a vague, unlikely promise,” Anevay smirked.

“Silly indeed,” Sylvanas snickered, her eyes fluttering closed as she began to savor how she was feeling. “I mean, look at me right now. You’re so silly that your blood has made _me_ silly. That’s just science.”

“I guess I should appreciate such a rare sight, then,” Anevay nodded, leaning against the arm of the chair as she watched Sylvanas bask in her own drunkenness. “Haven’t seen you this out of it since that time you got drunk on six bottles of Sunwine.”

“In my defense,” Sylvanas began, raising a hand high into the air, “...Lor’themar was talking shit and I had to drink him under the table to prove a point.”

“Lor’themar always talks shit to me, I’ve never had to drink him under the table,” Anevay laughed. “Anar’alah, Silvermoon’s a headache to be in.”

“Indeed it is,” Sylvanas snorted. “Honestly, even Fairbreeze was always preferable to fucking Silvermoon. Less self entitled nobles.”

“I can attest to that,” Anevay nodded, remembering how the villages of Quel’Thalas had always been more pleasant places to live than Silvermoon had been. In retrospect, it was foolish to try and live in Silvermoon after the Fall when she had already disliked the city. “Less noblemen preying on me at least.”

“Ah yes, that boy your mother tried to lash you to is still alive, isn’t he?” Sylvanas asked.

“I’ve never known him to be a boy,” Anevay shook her head sadly. “But yes, he is.”

“When did she try to pull that nonsense?”

“Birth,” Anevay explained.

“How old is Meadowbriar?” Sylvanas asked.

“Two Hundred and Twelve.”

“And how old are you?”

“Eighty Seven.”

Sylvanas’ brow furrowed as she took a single moment to run the math in her head. Soon after her eyes widened with clarity and dawning horror. A beat of silence passed before she suddenly rose from her seat. 

“Well… it looks like I’m going to have to pay a long overdue visit to the Meadowbriar residence,” she said venomously, a somewhat shaky hand reaching for Deathwhisper where she placed it beside the door.

“Whoa whoa whoa! Not while you’re drunk!” Anevay exclaimed, standing up and rushing over to grab Sylvanas by the shoulders. “And not ever! You kill a civilian, it's going to become a whole thing.”

Sylvanas rolled her eyes, her head lulling back as she did. “Don’t patronize me, Darkflare. I know how to make it look like an accident,” she scoffed with a slight slur. “And besides… a ‘whole thing’ is a small price to pay for giving you proper justice. The fact that this scumbag has lived this long is abhorrent in of itself.” 

“Okay, here’s the thing,” Anevay said, pulling Sylvanas back to the sofa. It was an easier feat than most would suggest considering Sylvanas’ inebriated state and Anevay’s strength. She sat her down and pried the bow out of her hands before continuing. “Meadowbriar isn’t anywhere close to as responsible for this as my mother is. She was the one who agreed to this and refused to let me have a childhood. Meadowbriar is small potatoes compared to her. Killing him won’t give me proper justice.”

Sylvanas’ eyes widened a fraction as Anevay captured her undivided attention. It was actually kind of mesmerizing how good the blood elf was at making a point. Even in her hazy state, she understood Anevay’s meaning with utter clarity. “Okay, I see what you're saying,” she said softly before moving to rise from the sofa again. “I actually need to go kill your mother.” 

Anevay reaffirmed her grip on Sylvanas’ shoulders and pushed her back onto the sofa.

“...Or not.”

“You’re not killing my mother,” Anevay said firmly. “That’s my baggage to deal with, and I’ll deal with her when I’m ready to. I don’t need you to avenge me, Dark Lady.”

Sylvanas pouted. “Well that’s not fair! You got to avenge _me_! What’s the difference here?”

“Well when my mother hurts somebody _you_ love, then you can go kill her. At that point it has nothing to do with me,” Anevay laughed as she set Deathwhisper against the side of the fireplace. “Until then, no killing my mother.”

“Who’s to say she _hasn’t_ already hurt someone I loved?” Sylvanas challenged with a huff. 

Anevay froze. Had she heard that right? Sylvanas couldn’t have meant…

“...Okay, you are definitely never having that elixir again,” she laughed, sitting down on the chair. “And I should tell the apothecaries to not let ANY of the Dark Rangers have it.”

Sylvanas balked. “Rude! I made you my High Overlord and you write off my words as drunken rambling!? Scandalous!”

“Okay, have the courage to say that again when you sober up and maybe I’ll take it seriously,” Anevay scoffed. “Until then, I’m going to presume any uncharacteristic declarations are the result of you being quite literally drunk on me.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sylvanas said with a wide grin, leaning forward in her seat. “Besides, you of all people should know that actions speak louder than words. Have my actions in sobriety left any room for doubt?”

“Well let’s see. You disguised yourself and listened to things I wouldn’t have otherwise told you,” Anevay counted off on her fingers. “You had the Dark Rangers shadowing me for three months. You put me on training duty and then immediately took me off of it. You rifled through my things when I trusted you with Skash’ka…”

Anevay pursed her lips. “I mean if you want me to be honest, Dark Lady, they all either tell me that you don’t trust me, or that you’re stalking me.”

Sylvanas fell silent, her satisfied smirk falling slightly. “...Fair point,” she murmured, her gaze falling to the floor. “...I guess when you put it like that, it’s no wonder why so many people…”

“...Why so many people what?” Anevay asked, gesturing for her to continue.

“...Left.” Sylvanas kept her head low, the hair spilling from her cloak draping over her face to conceal her expression.

Anevay pursed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t believe that. If what Kalira has told me is any indication, this is all unusual behavior for you. I maintain that people left because they can’t see past your Undeath, my Queen. I don’t believe it actually had anything to do with your actions.”

“I brought Quel’Thalas into the Horde,” Sylvanas countered, curling one of her legs up to rest her chin on one knee. “I’m pretty sure Vereesa _still_ hates me for that.”

“But that isn’t your fault,” Anevay countered. “That’s Vereesa’s baggage to deal with. And if she’s going to maintain that kind of grudge despite the fact that the people responsible for the sacking of Quel’Thalas are long dead, then she’s no better than the people who vilify the Forsaken because of what Arthas did.”

“...I suppose,” Sylvanas said, her voice cracking slightly as she curled further into herself. “Is… is _this_ a side effect of the elixir? These fits of… woe?” she asked.

“I think that’s just your lowered inhibitions,” Anevay smiled sadly. “I got completely plastered once and started sobbing right in the middle of an Orgrimmar tavern. According to Thrall I was yelling for someone to stop the screams.”

Sylvanas bristled slightly. “...Oh.” 

Enough time passed that Anevay felt the urge to say more when the Dark Lady rose from the couch. “In any case, I better take my leave. I’d rather not trouble you with this.”

“It’s quite alright, Dark Lady. I’m the reason you’re in this state anyway,” Anevay said, standing up and looking at her sympathetically. “You wouldn’t have needed a calming elixir if it hadn’t been for me in the first place.”

Sylvanas didn’t sit back down but she didn’t move for the door, either. She simply stood in silence, daring to lift her gaze just enough to see Anevay gazing at her with a warm, understanding expression. Somehow, that was worse. It made it harder to maintain eye contact. 

“Anevay I…” she paused, cursing herself for her sudden inability to speak plainly without stopping and quaking. Her hands clenched at her sides as she tried to push through the haze, through the fit of sorrow she found herself in and forced herself to meet Anevay’s gaze. No matter how pitiful her own expression might have been. “...I don’t think I’m okay either.”

“I kinda figured,” Anevay nodded, smiling at her sympathetically. She stepped closer and laid a hand on Sylvanas’ arm. “I can’t offer much in the way of advice. You saw that yourself just yesterday. But… if you need a friend…” she trailed off.

Sylvanas let out a bitter huff of laughter. “At this point, I think I’d be desperate enough to ask for a pity fuck,” she said dryly before the cynical wit faded away into general melancholy. “But… Thank you, Anevay. I appreciate it.”

Anevay managed to suppress the nervous spike she felt at Sylvanas’ remark and kept her smile on her face. “Well I have always liked to consider you a friend,” she said, squeezing Sylvanas’ arm gently.

Sylvanas inhaled sharply, feeling the warmth in Anevay’s hand seeped into her arm and through her body. “...Friends…” she whispered, a blissful current cutting through the wave of misery she was feeling. “I… I think I would like that.”

Anevay’s warm smile grew wider and she nodded. “...I would too,” she said. “Can we talk about this again when you’ve sobered up?”

“Of course,” Sylvanas nodded, her disposition returning to something more relaxed. “And I promise I won’t rescind what I’ve said once this wears off.”

“Oh I’m sure a few things will be rescinded,” Anevay chuckled as she guided Sylvanas toward the door. “You should rest while the elixir is in your system though. Do you need me to escort you to your chambers?”

“That is sweet of you, but I think I’ll be alright,” Sylvanas assured her. “This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to act professional when I’m drunk.”

“Very well,” Anevay nodded. “Just tell the apothecaries what you’ve drank so they can handle it in case anything catastrophic happens.”

“Like what?”

“Like you asking anyone else for a pity fuck,” Anevay smirked as she opened the door.

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes at Anevay. “And the odds of you allowing me to live that down?”

“I’ll let you know when you’re sober,” Anevay said cheekily.

“Of course you will,” Sylvanas sighed. Still, even with such an ominous statement, she couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. “...Thank you for this, Anevay.”

“Of course,” Anevay smiled up at her. Sylvanas was only an inch or two taller than her, and yet it always seemed like she towered over her like a giant. “Get some rest, okay?”

“I will,” Sylvanas nodded, reluctantly turning to walk out the opened door.

* * *

It wasn’t until later that evening that Anevay saw Sylvanas again. She’d dismissed her students, who were making an obscene amount of progress despite only having a third of the training time as the previous instructor, and was left with some time to wander around the Undercity. The news on a psylosopher had turned up very little in the city, and in fact the best specialist on traumatic incidents was a Troll woman in Orgrimmar. She’d send out a raven asking for an appointment, and only had to wait to hear back.

As she stepped out of the War Quarter and into the canals, she spotted Anya patrolling with a scowling look on her face.

“She stuck to that Canal Duty thing, huh?” Anevay called out as she ran up to her.

Anya’s ear flicked when she caught the sound of swiftly approaching footsteps. She turned to see Anevay having already closed the distance between them. “Champion?” Anya quirked a brow at the blood elf. “...Can I help you?”

“Just out for a stroll,” Anevay smiled. “And really? Champion? After last night?”

Anya scowled, her ears folding against the fabric of her hood. “The Dark Lady has made it quite clear that I need to treat you with more respect,” she grumbled. “Hence, canal duty.”

“I think there’s more options than formality and demanding I take my clothes off,” Anevay chuckled slightly.

“Yes well, it’s not wise for me to take my chances where Sylvanas is concerned,” Anya hissed. “We can’t all be strong enough to... to bench press Deathwing or whatever outlandish thing you’ve accomplished lately.”

Anevay’s smile fell. It was clear that Anya was angry with her, even though she had to know that Anevay hadn’t actually done anything wrong. Still, Anevay had learned the hard way not to try and argue with a Dark Ranger, and so said nothing in response and simply turned away, heading in the opposite direction toward the Magic Quarter.

Anya’s eyes widened as she watched Anevay just walk away. No witty comeback. No snark. Nothing. What did-?

“Wait!” she called out, rushing over to catch up to Anevay. When she was back at the blood elf’s side, her expression became more nervous. “You’re not going to… tell Sylvanas I lost my temper, are you?”

Anevay shook her head. “I’m a big girl, I can handle a Dark Ranger being snippy. Contrary to what you might think, I don’t need Sylvanas to fight my battles.”

Anya frowned. “That’s not what I-” She cut herself off, letting out an exasperated sigh. “...Nevermind. Thanks, anyway.”

“It’s no trouble,” Anevay shrugged, turning back for the Magic Quarter.

“Also,” Anya added, prompting Anevay to pause in her step once again. “...Sorry about what I said yesterday. That was… out of line. And kind of the wrong mood to set since Sylvanas reduced a guy’s head to goo not a minute after.”

“It would have been the wrong mood regardless,” Anevay pursed her lips. “I’ve had Silvermoon nobles, Thrall and a few Tauren try to pull the same crap with me. It’s not cute.”

“Wait, Thrall tried to-?” Confusion and unease crossed Anya’s expression before she shook her head of those thoughts. “Yes, well… anyway. Sorry again.”

Anevay nodded and continued toward the Magic Quarter. The last few days had been extremely eventful, and she still had yet to meet with Sylvanas to confirm whether developments of the morning were going to stick. She was no stranger to just how drunk the Forsaken could get on Felblood elixir, and despite it’s uses it embodied every fear she had about the consequences of her continued use of Fel crystals.

Anya watched her go, saying nothing to halt her steps this time and returning to her patrol in the other direction. If Nathanos caught her stalling, it wasn’t going to be pretty for her. 

As Anevay looped around the Magic Quarter, she actually saw Sylvanas conversing with a Portal Mage about something she wasn’t anywhere near close enough to understand. As she passed by, Sylvanas glanced up and met her eye. Anevay lifted a hand and waved, smiling at her.

Sylvanas blinked with surprise, but recovered in time to offer a gentle wave in kind. A delicate smile graced her dark lips as the slight tension in her shoulders eased noticeably. 

Anevay smiled wider and nodded to her as she continued along her way, deciding to stroll around the entire ring. She quite liked the Undercity. While the scent of sulfur did hang heavy in the air, it was far from the most unpleasant place in all of Azeroth. The subterranean infrastructure was a marvel to behold. After only a few short years, the city was a far cry from the narrow labyrinthian catacombs it started out as before the Forsaken assumed control of it. Since then, everything from the architecture to the infantry were bursting with an established culture. When one was looking at armor or a tower, the influence of Forsaken design was unmistakable. There was nothing like it in all of Azeroth. A culture as mindless and vengeful as the living made them out to be wouldn’t have been able to accomplish such things. 

Of course, it wasn’t just the city that Anevay liked, but the people who lived there as well. As early as the Northrend campaign, she had been building a decent rapport with the citizens of Lordaeron. She was more understanding and attentive than most living souls, earning the favor of many undead people after the reflexive wariness had been passed. 

Amazing how all it took to earn the trust of this supposedly evil race was just a little genuine kindness.

She turned around then she heard sharp, loud footsteps following her to see Sylvanas approaching, and she smiled again. “Dark Lady. Something you needed?” she asked, stopping and giving Sylvanas her full attention.

“Not necessarily,” Sylvanas said, shaking her head before she reached into a pocket inside her cloak and pulled out an already unsealed scroll. “I just received this letter from the Argent Crusade through the portal network. Apparently, they’re sending out summons to heroes from across the lands for aid in further curbing the Scourge threat.” She rolled up the parchment and turned her attention back to Anevay. “This summons specifically asked for me to send you their way. Interested?”

Anevay took the scroll from her and unfurled it, reading over the message. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the details. The Scourge was supposed to be largely inert, but it seemed as if the Argent Crusade wasn’t content with that and wanted to go through every single corner of Azeroth with a fine-tooth comb to hunt down necromancers and liches based on even the tiniest lead. She rolled the scroll back up and handed it back, shaking her head.

“No, I’m not. A few necromancers scattered throughout the winds are not my concern, especially is there’s no word of any major schemes involved. Considering words I’ve had with Fordring after the Lich King was killed, I don’t believe he won’t turn his ire toward the Forsaken given enough time,” she said.

Sylvanas’ expression was unreadable for a moment before a pleased smile graced her features. “I couldn’t agree more,” she said, promptly shredding the parchment in her hands. “I can’t say I dislike the Crusade any more than the Scourge, but we don’t want to make things too easy for them. The longer Fordring is occupied with them, the less we have to worry about either one causing us more trouble.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Anevay nodded as she relaxed. She tilted her head curiously at Sylvanas and cautiously asked. “If you’re not too occupied… I was wondering if we could talk? Now that you’re sober?”

Sylvanas blinked, the air of ruthless pragmatism dissipating as she appeared slightly thrown by Anevay’s change of subject. “Oh yes… that.” Her ears folded against the hood of her cloak as a rather sheepish expression crossed her face. “I suppose I made a… proper ass of myself earlier, didn’t I?”

“Only a little,” Anevay smiled. “I mostly wanted to just… confirm a few things and dispel a few others. Just… look, can we talk about it? I’ll understand if you’d rather forget everything that happened this morning.”

Sylvanas did not visibly flinch or bristle, but she did look inordinately stiff. Her eyes ventured to and fro, seeing if anyone was within earshot of their admittedly hushed words. “...Yes,” she nodded. “Yes we can talk about it. Although, I would rather do so privately.”

Anevay nodded and led her through the tunnels and back to her quarters. As soon as the door was closed behind them, Anevay spoke.

“I first want to apologize for the incident that led to you being so compromised, my Queen,” she said, sitting down on one end of the sofa and inviting Sylvanas to sit on the other. “I should have secured Frostmourne’s shard and put it away. Or told you about it in the first place.”

Sylvanas frowned, recalling the ache and anxiety that came from seeing a shard of Frostmourne in these very chambers. In the time it took for her to clear her mind of the elixir that Anevay gave her, she thought about it a great deal. 

It was then that she realized she still couldn’t feel the presence of the shard. Looking around, she could confirm that it wasn’t even in the room, likely sealed and put away somewhere in her bedroom. She was at least grateful for that.

“...I shall concede that your reason for keeping such a trinket was pragmatic of you,” Sylvanas nodded. “So long as you carry one shard, that accursed blade cannot be remade. ...Still, I would rather you at least warned me first.”

“I know. I apologize, Dark Lady,” Anevay nodded. “I made a judgment call that informing you would only cause you distress. I assumed incorrectly.”

“Well now we know that you have a handy little trick to easing my distress,” Sylvanas mused almost playfully were it not for her slight unease.

Anevay chuckled softly and nodded. “I’ll try to find something less potent,” she smiled. Then her smile fell slightly as she stared into her lap. “As to the more… personal things…”

Sylvanas’ lip pursed into a thin line as she braced herself for the course this discussion would take. “...If I could begin, I would like to comment on something.” 

“Yes?” Anevay asked.

The sharpened fingers of her gauntlets drummed against the arm of the sofa she sat at while she considered her next words. “I’m not sure if my memory was eschewed by the elixir, but I seem to recall you being remarkably… cautious while I was in that state.” 

“Cautious?” Anevay asked, actually surprised by Sylvanas’ comment. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well… with how I was feeling at the time, it was very likely that you could have asked anything of me, and I would have complied,” her gaze shifted away from Anevay and onto the floor. “I… I suppose I don’t know many others who would exhibit such restraint.”

“Pardon the insinuation, my Queen,” Anevay said, shifting slightly in her seat. “But it’s never been my style to take advantage of a drunk woman.”

Sylvanas allowed a small smile to grace her lips. “I suppose if I had more people like you among my ranks, I wouldn’t be looking over my shoulder as often as I do.” She felt the tension in her shoulder ease somewhat before she gestured for Anevay to continue with what she wanted to say.

“I suppose so,” Anevay nodded, wringing her hands uncomfortably. She was dreading asking about this. She needed to, but she was dreading the possibility of Sylvanas’ drunk words being rescinded in her sobriety. “...About my offer of… a friend if you needed it…”

Sylvanas blinked. “Oh. Oh, I could have sworn you were going to ask about the…” she paused, appearing almost bashful. “...Nevermind. Yes, I remember that offer you made and… I’m amenable to it.”

Anevay looked up and smiled, her eyes were full of hope. “Really?” she asked, her voice was just a whisper.

Sylvanas nodded. “I have loyal citizens, I have trusted allies, hated enemies and many many variables that walk the delicate balance of potential assets or probable liabilities. Yet despite all of that, one thing that I am severely lacking in… is friends.” Her entire posture shifted into something especially vulnerable but not viscerally uncomfortable. “I think it’s about time I had at least one or two.”

Anevay relaxed and slumped back against the arm of the couch. “That’s… that’s really good to hear. I was afraid you would decide otherwise.”

“If it were anyone else, I may very well have,” Sylvanas confirmed. “Alas, most other people would have been as cautious not to take advantage of me as you did. Most other people wouldn’t have done so much on my behalf as you did.”

“Well… I’ve always cared about you, Sylvanas. You’ve done so much for me throughout my life, I always felt a little in your debt. But more than that, I… I genuinely like you,” Anevay said, sitting up straight.

Out of anyone else’s mouth, such words would prompt Sylvanas to put her guard up. To assume that the other person was only saying that to betray her in a moment of weakness. Alas, Anevay had disproven the validity of those instincts many times over.

“And I like you too,” Sylvanas nodded, a warm smile on her fae. “Perhaps we can consider the slate of debts cleaned and consider everything from this moment on as favors between friends.”

“I’d like that,” Anevay smiled.

Sylvanas’s grin widened slightly as she relaxed against the back of the sofa. This conversation had already proven more fruitful than she was expecting. “...Was there anything else you felt needed addressing?”

Anevay opened her mouth to speak, and then paused. She stifled a giggle and nodded. “Well… there is one thing I can think of,” she said.

Sylvanas bristled. “Do I dare ask?” A wry grin formed on her face as she asked.

“Well, you can rest assured that there wouldn’t have been a single ounce of ‘pity’ involved,” Anevay laughed, curling her knees up to her chest.

“ _ Oh, by the Endless Dark _ ,” Sylvanas groaned, resting her face in an open palm. “That elixir truly robbed me of my tact, didn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t say tact. But definitely inhibitions,” Anevay giggled, laying her forehead on her knees. 

Sylvanas sighed, mustering the will to look up at the blood elf who was making a poor attempt to hide how amused she was. “...Another time, perhaps,” she said with a casual air. “When we’ve had more time to acclimate to this newfound friendship.”

Anevay continued giggling against her knees, before she suddenly stopped and lifted her head. A bewildered expression on her face.

“Wait, what?”


End file.
